#heavy weapon support squad

[titanomancy]

Credit where it's due, this is a lot more efficient of

a solution than releasing separate Mk.III weapon upgrades.

[artbyblastweave]

Playing through Fallout:New Vegas for the first time in years. And I'm developing a newfound appreciation for the damage done to the intended pacing of the narrative with the addition of the Courier's Stash. I wake up in Goodsprings, and as part of the extended tutorial you have Ghosttown Gunfight, the fairly self-contained faction war between Goodsprings and the Powder Gangers. And the design intent, I think, is that this is probably supposed to be a pain in the ass, with only one or two avenues of support available to you given the low level at which you'll pick this one up. Six Powder Gangers, some in body-armor, would be a serious threat, and committing to fighting against that with your dinky 9mm and a varmint rifle seems like a rough time! An actual uphill battle, doing the right thing instead of the easy thing. Fortunately, Benny inexplicably left my handy 40mm grenade launcher in the grave with me, so I cleaned up.

I'm working my way south, and, you know, in a version of the game where Benny didn't inexplicably leave my handy 40mm grenade launcher in the grave with me, this would have been the knock-on effect of my "good" Karmic choice in defending Goodsprings; the road south is littered with powder gangers who'd have been neutral had I not kicked the hornet's nest. As it stands? Free experience. I hit Primm, and fighting through the cramped hallways of the Bison Steve I encounter an enemy armed with what was clearly supposed to be the first heavy weapon I'd encounter in the world. Tight Corridors. Inexplicable Grenade Launcher. I clean up. South I go to the Mojave outpost, Nipton, that whole thing. And clearly, clearly you aren't meant to take a swing at Vulpes here, right? You're supposed to take it in, get a sense for the legion. In the version of the game that shipped you're supposed to get bodied if you try to kick the beef gate here. There are allowances in the game for if you pull it off, sure, but I did try with just the service rifle, without the glorious first-strike capabilities afforded to me by the 40mm grenade launcher that Benny inexplicably left in the grave with me. It didn't go very well!

So now I'm dogged by Legion hit squads on my way to Novac, which I get the distinct impression was not the point in the game at which this was supposed to start happening to me, because I am gathering up some pretty expensive equipment, all sold for space. I punch through to Vegas, and at this stage, the clear developer intent is that you need to spend some time milling around Freeside or Camp McCarran in order to gain access to the Strip- do odd jobs to scrape up the money, buy the forgery from Mick and Ralphs, gain monorail access, get your science skill high enough to hack the robot. Get the lay of the land, get a feel for the people, send some time stewing in the human cost of House's walled garden before you head in and hear the pitch from the big man himself.

Except I've got 5000 caps from selling off all the legion killteam equipment. In I go!

And the fun thing is, right, the Courier's stash can't be diegetic, but it is having a very direct impact on the world here. A top legion guy just went down to my inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher. Whatever else I'm roleplaying as, I am roleplaying as a guy who woke up in the possession of an inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher, and neither I nor my character can plausibly ignore that fact given its terrible bloodstained utility. I play a man, a man who would be a good man, a man nonetheless bewitched by the terrible resolutory power of the grenade launcher. My best friend, the inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher! My worst enemy, the inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher!

[ilovemitsuya]

sylus x reader (fluffy,angsty?)

summary: “During a mission, I sustained serious injuries and was hospitalized. Though Sylus couldn’t visit me, he sent Mephisto in his place. When I was discharged, I wasn’t expecting him to be outside.”

“I’m not going to lie to you two.” Jenna said, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned back against her desk. “This mission isn’t like the others we’ve done. That facility is more unstable than we initially thought. The few teams we’ve sent to investigate before found nothing at all.”

Crossing my arms as I studied Captain Jenna’s face.

“So why send just the two of us, then?” I asked.

“Why not a full squad if it’s that dangerous?”

“Because we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. A bigger team could draw too much attention.“

“And if we find something… unexpected?” Tara asked.

“You report back immediately.” Jenna said, her tone firm. “Don’t try to take on anything alone if it’s beyond your capabilities. This isn’t about being heroes.”

There was a beat of silence before Jenna pushed off her desk and took a step closer to me and Tara. “But you’re not going in blind. We’ll have a team on standby if things get too hot. You need to trust your instincts and watch each other’s backs.”

Glancing at Tara, she gave me a reassuring nod.

Tara and I turned to leave, but Jenna’s voice stopped us just before we reached the door. “And remember.” she called out, “If things start to go sideways, you get out. Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” I replied, glancing over my shoulder at her.

With that, Tara and I exited the office, both of us knowing that we were walking into something dangerous. But we had our orders.

———————————————————————

The facility loomed over us, the metal creaking with the weight of its own decay. Tara and I moved cautiously through the halls, weapons at the ready, our footsteps echoing against the cracked concrete.

Dust hung in the air like a fog, making each breath feel heavy. We’d been searching for signs of Wanderers for hours, but aside from a few ominous claw marks on the walls, there was nothing.

Tara walked a few paces ahead, her sharp eyes sweeping the darkened corners as she scanned for any signs of movement.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“The readings are coming from this sector.” I confirmed. “It’s like there’s a cluster of energy sources in the storage area up ahead. Something’s definitely drawing them here.”

Tara nodded and pushed forward, keeping a steady pace as we approached the large metal door that led to the storage room. She placed a hand on the door’s surface, glancing back at me. “On three?” she whispered.

I tightened my grip on my gun and gave her a quick nod. “On three.”

“One… two… three!”

Tara shoved the door open, and we moved inside in a swift, coordinated motion. The room was just as the rest of the facility, old crates and equipment lay scattered across the floor, and the walls were covered in peeling paint.

I took a step forward, my eyes sweeping the room for any signs of movement. But then, there was a flicker of motion in the shadows, too quick to pinpoint at first.

I turned to Tara, but she had already seen it. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her weapon in the direction of the disturbance.

“Stay sharp.” she said, voice tense. “I think we’ve got company.”

I reacted on instinct, surging forward to intercept it with a gunshot.

It swiped at me with one of its jagged claws, forcing me to block the strike with my forearm. Pain shot through my body as its claws tore through my sleeve and left deep gashes across my skin.

Before we could even do anything, the wanderer let out a loud roar and smashed its claws against the support beams around us. A low rumble vibrated through the building, and the ground beneath us trembled. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and a series of cracks split the concrete walls, spreading out in every direction.

“Get out of here, now!” Tara shouted, sprinting for the exit.

I turned to follow her, but the ground heaved under my feet, and a section of the ceiling gave way with a deafening crash. I stumbled and fell, barely managing to roll out of the way as a massive metal beam slammed down where I’d been standing. The room shuddered violently, and the walls seemed to cave inward.

“Tara!” I called out, but my voice was drowned out by the roar of collapsing debris. I saw her struggling to keep her footing near the exit, but then another tremor hit, and a cascade of rubble came crashing down, forcing us apart.

I fought to keep moving, dodging falling beams and lunging over shifting pieces of debris. But it was no use. The floor buckled beneath me, and I felt myself falling through the collapsing structure.

The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, and pain exploded through my side as I hit the ground hard. I tried to move, but my legs were pinned beneath a heavy chunk of concrete, and the darkness quickly closed in around me.

The last thing I saw before everything faded was the shattered remnants of the facility above, crumbling like a house of cards. Then, there was nothing.

———————————————————————

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing I became aware of as I drifted back to consciousness.

The world came back in hazy fragments, a faint antiseptic smell, the dull ache radiating through my entire body, the blinding white light overhead. I blinked slowly, the ceiling tiles came into focus. I was in a hospital room, covered in bandages, and every muscle felt like it had been dragged through hell.

A groan escaped my lips as I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. The movement must have caught someone’s attention because I heard a chair scrape back and then footsteps rushing closer.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” It was Tara’s voice, low and familiar, filled with a relief I hadn’t heard from her often. She came into view, her face creased with worry. Her eyes softened when she saw I was awake, and she let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for a long time. “You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

I managed to lift my head just enough to give her a weary look. “Like I got hit by a train.” I rasped, my voice rough from disuse. “What happened to me?”

“You were inside when the building collapsed.” she explained, pulling a chair closer and sitting down beside me. “By the time we got a rescue team in there, you were unconscious and pinned under the debris.” Tara’s voice wavered slightly, and she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to show how much the whole thing had shaken her.

“You’ve been out for a while.” Her tone was a little lighter now, a hint of humor breaking through. “Can’t believe you’d scare me like that. Do you know how annoying it was waiting around here?”

A faint chuckle escaped me, though it quickly turned into a wince.

“I should let the doctors know you’re awake. They’ll want to check you over.”

I gave a slow nod, already feeling exhaustion pulling at me again, but I didn’t want her to worry. “Go ahead.” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell silent again, and I found myself staring at the ceiling, fighting the familiar feeling of emptiness that came whenever I was alone. I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath.

I wished Sylus were here. There was no way he could just walk into a hospital like any normal person.

I was about to close my eyes again when I heard a soft tapping on the window. My eyes snapped open, and my heart skipped a beat as I turned toward the sound. There, perched on the narrow ledge just outside the window, was a black crow. Mephisto.

I struggled to sit up, limping a little as I reached out to unlock the window. It slid open with a creak, and Mephisto hopped inside, a small bundle of wildflowers clutched in his beak. They were ragged and windblown, a little wilted from the journey, but I could tell they’d been picked carefully.

I took the flowers gently from Mephisto’s beak, my hands trembling slightly. There was a small note tied around the stems with a piece of dark string. I untied it and read the familiar handwriting: “Since I can’t be there. Take care of yourself. – S.”

Sylus couldn’t come to see me himself, but he’d sent Mephisto instead. His way of saying he was there, still watching over me.

“Thank you.” I whispered

Mephisto tilted its head and gave a soft caw, as if acknowledging my words. Then, it took off out the window again.

I sank back against the pillows, holding the flowers close. It wasn’t the same as having Sylus here in person, but it was enough to know he was thinking of me.

———————————————————————

As I lay in the hospital bed, I reached for my phone on the side table and unlocked the screen. My fingers trembled slightly as I typed out a message to Sylus.

I hit send and waited, my heart beating a little faster than it should. The minutes dragged on, and I started to wonder if he'd even seen my message. But then, my device buzzed with his reply.

Typical Sylus.

The response came almost instantly, as though he'd been expecting my question.

I glanced back at the window, half expecting to see the crow still there. It made sense. Mephisto had always kept an eye on me, by Sylus’s command.

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening as I read his words.

There was a long pause before his next message arrived.

It was the closest thing to comfort I would get from him, even if he couldn't be here with me.

———————————————————————

The final paperwork was a blur, the nurse’s instructions fading in and out as I focused on keeping steady. I was bandaged up and aching from head to toe, but at least I was getting out of the hospital. They’d wanted to keep me a few days longer, but I’d insisted on leaving.

As soon as they handed me my things, I slipped into my jacket and headed outside.

When I pushed through the front doors, a figure was leaning casually against the side of the building, half hidden in the shadow cast by the streetlamp. Sylus. He looked up when he saw me.

“Sylus…” I said, managing a small smile as I walked over, but his expression was tense as he straightened up, his eyes quickly scanning over my injuries.

“You’re stubborn for a hunter.” he muttered, his tone flat, though I could tell by the way his eyes lingered on my face and my bandaged arm that he was probably worried.

“The hell are you doing out here so soon? You could barely stand a few hours ago.”

“They were going to keep me trapped in there another week,” I said, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “I couldn’t just stay there doing nothing.”

He gave me a sharp look, he slipped his arm around my shoulders, guiding me firmly to his car parked a few feet away.

“You’re barely out, and here you are, thinking you’re ready to run around already.”

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow.

"Since when do you drive anything other than that death trap of yours?"

"Since I figured you might not be up for riding around on a motorcycle after getting half crushed under a building."

He helped me into the passenger seat, taking extra care to ensure I was settled in before closing the door. He didn’t say anything as he walked around and got in himself, but the silence felt heavy, like he was holding back from saying a thousand things.

We drove through the streets in silence until we reached the edge of the city. I realized where we were going the moment we turned onto a narrow road.

“Your place?” I asked, glancing over at him.

He kept his gaze on the road. “You’re not going home alone in that condition. Not happening.”

I knew better than to argue, so I just nodded.

When we finally arrived, he was already at my side, opening the car door before I could even move. I tried to slide out on my own, but he offered his hand, steady and warm, and before I could argue, he was lifting me out of the seat.

I groaned, shaking my head. “Sylus, I can walk. You don’t need to—”

“Too late, sweetie.” he smirked, his arms sliding under my legs as he pulled me up, holding me effortlessly in a bridal carry. “Just sit back and let me do this.”

I sighed, trying to hide the warmth creeping up my face. “I’m tough, you know.”

“I know you are.” He glanced down, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he carried me toward the door. “But you’re hurt, and besides,” he added, leaning closer, his voice softening, “sometimes, you need someone to take care of you.”

Inside, he led me to his room and gestured for me to sit on the bed. “Wait here. And don’t try moving around.”

I managed a small, sarcastic smile. “What, you think I’m going to run off?”

His gaze darkened. “You have a habit of being reckless.”

Before I could respond, he was already disappearing into the other room, returning moments later with a small first aid kit and a glass of water. He knelt beside me, unwrapping some of the bandages on my arm with practiced precision.

“I already saw the doctors for this.” I said, watching him closely. He ignored me, dabbing disinfectant on a fresh cut and glancing up with a glint of warning in his eyes.

“Clearly, they didn’t do a good enough job if you’re in this condition.” he replied, his tone clipped.

I sighed, not bothering to respond. Instead, I watched his hands move, careful but efficient, his expression focused as he replaced the bandages. He was so quiet, so steady, so… unlike his usual self. His eyes kept flicking up to meet mine, only for a second, before going back to my injuries.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I murmured, not sure if I was talking to him or to myself.

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment, before he looked up, his expression unreadable. “And if I don’t, who will?”

I watched him as he worked, watching how he gently wrapped fresh gauze around my arm, tightening it carefully.

His fingers lingered over the bandage, as if making sure it wasn't too tight.

"Is this too tight?" he murmured, his gaze flicking up to meet mine.

"No... it's fine." I whispered, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. My words were barely a breath, and I wasn't sure if he heard me, but he continued anyway, his focus unbreakable.

"You can tell me if it hurts." he said softly, his gaze locking onto mine.

"It doesn't hurt." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. But the truth was, all I can think about is how his fingers felt against my skin.

“You could have been killed.” he suddenly said, the faintest tremor in his voice. “And you didn’t think to tell me, or anyone, what you were dealing with out there?”

I looked down, feeling that familiar pang of guilt again.

“Tell me next time before you go off on one of these suicide missions.” he snapped, his jaw tight. “Or better yet, stay out of places where buildings collapse on you.”

“I don’t get to pick and choose which missions are dangerous.” I replied.

“And I’m supposed to sit back and just watch you throw yourself into the line of fire?” His voice was low, but I could hear the worry simmering beneath it.

He was silent for a moment, his expression hardening as he reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face.

“And next time, you’re telling me about this kind of mission. I don’t care if you think it’s nothing.”

My expression softened as I looked up at him

“I’m okay now.” I whispered.

He stared at me for a moment before he gave a reluctant nod.

“Try to rest here. I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” he said, guiding her down gently. “I’m guessing you don’t want to stay in those all night.”

I took the bundle of soft, comfortable clothes he offered.

“Thank you, Sylus.”

His lips quirked into a gentle smile, running his fingers lightly through my hair, guiding me to lie back against the bed.

“Enough fighting it, sweetie.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You need to rest.”

I started to protest, but he pressed a finger gently to my lips, shaking his head. “No arguments,” he said softly. “Just close your eyes.”

He pulled a blanket over me, his hands lingering as he tucked it around my shoulders, and as my breathing slowed, I felt his fingers brush my cheek, tracing gentle patterns along my skin. The last thing I saw was him watching me, his expression filled with something I couldn’t quite place, a mix of worry, relief, and maybe… something else, something deeper.

“Sleep.” he whispered, his voice a barely audible murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”

———————————————————————

The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the room. Sylus sat beside her, one leg folded over the other, his arms crossed as he watched her sleep. In the dim light, she looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the worry that had been etched into her face earlier. He’d seen her like this before years ago.

He could still remember that night, when she’d slipped through his fingers.

He reached out almost instinctively, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She didn’t stir, but his touch softened, lingering there, feeling the warmth of her skin against his fingertips.

Unable to bear it, he slipped his arms around her, drawing her close, careful not to wake her. She was warm, her head resting against his chest, her body relaxed in his embrace. He pressed his cheek against her hair, letting himself take in her scent, the steady beat of her heart.

“You don’t get to do this to me again.” he whispered, his voice rough, barely audible even to himself. “Not this time. I won’t lose you. Not again.”

if you made it this far thank you sm for reading! I appreciate you feel free to request ♡

[nahoney22]

Fluff prompt numero 11 with Wrecker, m! reader too! I really like your writing 🥰🙏 congrats on 4.5k followers!!!

The Easiest Thing 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Wrecker X Male!Reader (can be read as GN)

word count: 1.2k words

prompt:

• “I don’t think I will ever love anyone as much as I love you.”

When you and Wrecker have some time alone together, Wrecker can’t help but lay his feelings out on the line.

warnings: Safe for Work, male reader but can be read as GN, tooth rotting fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions, kisses.

A/N: sorry for the wait @wra1thh00 ! Enjoy 🩵

Please reblog to support fellow writers and creators and give us a big Wrecker filled hug.

The day had been long and chaotic, as they often were when you ran with the Batch.

But finally, after what felt like an eternity, you and Wrecker had some time to yourselves. The rest of the squad was busy either tinkering with equipment or gathering intel, which left you and Wrecker with a rare opportunity to escape for a little while.

"Hey, wanna go check out the village?" Wrecker asked, his tone eager and bright, "Tech said they got some kinda festival goin' on."

You nodded, unable to hide your smile. If that meant you got out of folding clothes and cleaning weapons, you definitely were not going to decline the offer.

It was impossible not to feel a little lighter around Wrecker. After all, you had been harbouring feelings for him since… well, since the moment you met him. His enthusiasm was contagious, he was kind-hearted, good looking and always seemed to know how to cheer you up on your low days. He was the perfect guy for you.

So, it was safe to say you were definitely eager and looking forward to spending some time alone with him. "Yeah, let's go!” you replied happily, grabbing your gear and following him out of the Marauder.

It was a short walk and the weather was beautiful and as you got to the village, you were both happy to see how alive with activity it was. Multi-coloured lanterns hung between buildings, casting a bright, vibrant glow over the streets. The sound of music and laughter filled the air, and vendors lined the main square, offering a variety of goods and treats. Wrecker’s eyes lit up at the sight, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his wonder as he pointed to everything the two of you should check out.

You spent the next couple of hours wandering through the village, checking out the stalls and watching some of the local performers when there was a moment when the two of you.

Watching an incredible musician that had you both stunned into silence and both standing side by side, you inhaled a sharp breath as his fingers just briefly moved across your own but nothing more. You wondered if Wrecker had noticed but he didn’t seem to make much of a reaction. And when the musician had finished, he smiled down at you and led the way to the next spot.

“Hey Wreck, look over there.” You grin, pointing to a particular game that was right up his street.

“Haha! Shall I show these boys whose boss?” He gleamed, flexing his muscles and cracking his back with a roll of his shoulders to prepare himself.

“Go do your thing.” You encourage as you both approach the game where participants had to swing a heavy hammer to ring a bell. Standing back, you watched in awe and total amusement as he effortlessly sent the bell clanging to the top, drawing cheers and applause from the crowd.

Your heart swells as he gushes over the praise from the others, not particularly used to the high praise about his abnormal brute strength. “That was awesome!” Wrecker grinned as he jogs back over to you. There’s a shy look on his face suddenly as he hands you a small prize he’d won—a simple, carved wooden figure of a sweet little clone trooper. “For you,”

You took it, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks,” you said softly, your heart skipping a beat at the way he looked at you, his expression tender.

As the evening wore on, the two of you grabbed some food from one of the vendors—a couple of skewers loaded with a mix of savory, spiced meat and roasted veg. You found a quiet spot near the edge of the village to sit and eat, watching as the sky turned shades of orange and pink. The conversation flowed easily, as it always did, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment. It was almost like… no, you shook the thought away, not wanting to get your hopes up. But it really did feel like a date.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon by the time you decided to head back. The walk back to the Marauder was peaceful, the night air cool and crisp. You were lost in thought, reflecting on the day, when Wrecker suddenly stopped in front of you.

“Hey, uh, can I… can I tell you somethin’?” His voice was uncharacteristically nervous, and he shifted from foot to foot, not quite meeting your eyes.

You frowned slightly, your heart rate quickening. “Of course. What’s on your mind?” Great. This is where he drops you into the dreaded friend zone and you have to act totally fine about it.

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, before finally looking at you. “It’s just… you make me feel somethin’, ya know? Like, I’ve always been happy hangin’ out with the squad, but with you… it’s different. Better, even. Like today, it was just us, and it felt… right. Like, I didn’t want it to end.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he continued, his words coming out in a rush, as if he was afraid of losing his nerve.

“You’re always lookin’ out for me, even when you don’t have to. And I—I love how you laugh, and how you get all serious when you’re fixin’ stuff, and how you never treat me like I’m dumb, even when I mess up. You’re really attracted too so I’ll just say it. I… I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone as much as I love you.”

For a moment, you were silent, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’d just said. Wrecker looked at you anxiously, clearly worried about your lack of response. You just couldn’t find the right words.

“I feel the same way,” you say after a few moments, finally finding your voice but with your voice barely above a whisper. “Wrecker, I—” You paused, searching for the right words as fireworks erupt in your stomach. “I love you, too. More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

Wrecker’s face lit up with a mixture of relief and joy. He reached out, his large hand hesitating just inches from your face. “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes, Wrecker. You don’t have to even ask.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Wrecker closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was soft, almost delicate—so different from the rough, tough exterior he usually presented to the galaxy. You melted into him, feeling his warmth, his strength, and most of all, his love. Your hand cupped his scarred cheek, fingers brushing over the texture as he hums against your lips in soft appreciation.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, but there was no mistaking the happiness in Wrecker’s eyes. Or your eyes for that matter.

“I don’t ever wanna be without you,” he said quietly, his forehead resting down against yours.

“You won’t be,” you promised, your hand finding his and squeezing it tightly. “I’m right here. Always.”

And as you walked back to the Marauder, hand in hand, you knew that this was just the beginning of something pretty great.

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[laikapaintsminis]

Field Ordnance Batteries are some of the largest man-portable weapons that humanity fields. They range from Heavy Lascannons, for direct anti-armor capabilities, to mulit-missile launch systems like the Malleus Rocket Launcher for sweeping enemy infantry from the battlefield. These guns provide mid range support, often deployed behind the front line to operate in positions where they can engage targets as needed.

The Taurox is the fast attack APC of the Astra Militarum, prized for it's all-terrain speed and capable armament. Serving as the lighter cousin to the Chimera, it carries a similar troop compliment, but sacrifices durability for speed and ease of deployment. Kasrkin squads utilize them when enemy flak is too thick to airdrop troops, or when a less obvious approach is needed.

The 99th use both of these weapon platforms in conjunction, as enemy positions are hammered by artillery strikes, the Tauroxes advance under fire to disgorge their furrious payload directly into the enemy lines. Once the foothold is established, the 99th mounts back up and moves to prepare for the next attack, always applying pressure to the enemy.

[siilvan]

bloodsport – V

prologue | one | two | three | four | interlude

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: after a talk with price, you decide to make a risky move. keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, makarov's usual bs

word count: 4.3k

note: a very sincere thank you to everyone who sent support and waited so long (a month) for this update :') not super proud of this ngl, i'll try to make the next chapter better and sooner lol

"something to confess?" price utters, brows furrowing as he stares you down with a confused look.

you wring your hands together, feeling the perspiration on your palms even through your gloves. "yes, it's about makarov—"

what's left of the building around you rumbles, pieces of the wreckage crumbling into smaller pieces and falling apart. price tears his gaze from you and glances around before patting your shoulder.

"whatever it is can wait. we need to get out before the rest of this collapses on top of us." he says while turning away and motioning for you to follow, graves and the shadows already starting to move ahead. you huff to yourself and jog after him, sticking close to his side until you reach the sizeable breach that he was leading you to.

you try in vain to talk again once the team is safely outside, but graves speaks up the second you go to open your mouth.

"we need to find where they moved that control center," he says, one of the shadows nearby already grabbing his radio – communications expert, you realize after a moment. "i'm wiling to bet it's still in the city, probably a smaller base."

price nods to graves from where he's standing next to you. "might be in an entirely new spot. tell the squads to keep their eyes peeled." he looks at the communications expert at the end of his warning, directing it at him, and gets a thumbs-up in reply.

"captain, i—" you start, before getting interrupted again.

"we'll discuss this after the mission, lieutenant." price mutters, giving you a tight-lipped smile. "i promise."

you bite your tongue and try to swallow down the lump in your throat, giving him a confirmatory nod of your own. the team moves on from the derelict building, with graves and his shadows splitting off after one of the strike teams radios about a suspicious spot. price and you end up assisting the bravo team with the second-largest base; for once, you're happy to see enemies in a location.

most teams clear out their sectors without much issue, securing canisters of chemical gas and weapon caches, but the supposed nerve center isn't anywhere to be found.

after hours of searching under the scorching sun, price and graves come to a mutual agreement: cut your losses and extract with what you did manage to get your hands on.

the flight back to base is quiet for the most part. everyone's too exhausted to fuss over anything, allowing you to sit in relative peace as you debate on what to say to price. the intel from makarov – the mole within your group – replays in your head over and over again, adding to your ever-growing level of stress. if anyone notices your leg bouncing practically the whole ride, they don't comment on it.

you're chasing the captain to his office the moment you touch down, pushing the heavy door shut behind you as his eyes fall on you.

"never seen you this frazzled, lieutenant." price remarks with a soft chuckle, moving to rest against the front of his desk with his arms loosely crossed over his chest. "what's bothering you?"

you blink at him, the words that you've been wanting to say suddenly dying on your tongue. you want to tell him, you really do, but what will he think of you? what if he takes you off the team for this? brands you as a traitor for working with the enemy?

"petra? y'okay?" price asks, leaning towards you.

you wave the question off and clear your throat. "yeah, i just, uh..." you trail off, before taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly, resigning yourself to your fate. "i've been getting intel from makarov."

shock briefly crosses price's face before it returns to a somewhat neutral expression – alarmingly neutral. you know the look, you've seen it a hundred times.

he's calculating his response.

"it started when i was captured," you stutter out, trying to explain. "it was just the information on shepherd at first, but then he showed up at my apartment after you sent me home— there's a mole in our team, whoever it is put a tracker on my phone, and now shepherd knows that we're onto him—"

"lieutenant." price interrupts, his voice as cold as the ice in his stare, shutting you up with little more than a startled whimper in reply.

he pauses, his jaw tight. you stare at him, wide-eyed and waiting for a furious response, but when he speaks again, his voice is soft.

"tell me everything you know. everything."

you draw in another breath and nod your head slowly. "one of the new recruits – someone who arrived recently – is working for shepherd, keeping tabs on us. his men are targeting the one-four-one; after the building collapse, one of them tried to sneak up on me. makarov found him before i did and took him out, but—"

"wait, he was there?" price all but growls, his arms falling back to his sides as his hands clench into fists against the tabletop.

you nod, again, shrinking under the barely-kept tension rolling off him in waves. "i didn't know he'd be there, it wasn't planned," you say, gaze falling to the floor. "but, he's not important right now. what is important is stopping shepherd before he uses the conflict in al-mazrah and urzikstan as an excuse to start a global war."

price doesn't reply at first, but you can see the gears turning in his head. evaluating, scheming, doing what he does best. a painful beat of silence passes between you, prompting you to speak again, uttering words that will earn you a medal, a grave, or life behind bars.

"makarov's given me intel before, captain. he has eyes in places that we don't, more resources than us, more freedom to act—"

"petra—" price cuts in, but you keep talking.

"—if you let me go undercover," you pause, staring into his eyes, searching for approval in his gaze. "i can get the information we need and act on it. shepherd, makarov... we can eliminate them in one fell swoop. i'll use makarov's resources, then take him down from within his own group. we can't do this clean. the gloves need to come off."

you step closer to him, lowering your voice to a quiet murmur that hardly reaches him. "you said it yourself: at the end of the day, somebody needs to make the enemy scared of the dark."

price clicks his tongue before shaking his head, an amused chuckle tumbling from his lips. "this is risky, you'd be inserting yourself right into his inner circle," he comments, tilting his head at you. "do you really think you'd be able to fool him?"

"he's already offered me protection," you say. "i'll figure out a way to gain his trust." you add, grimacing.

"normally i wouldn't approve something like this, but... for whatever reason, he seems to want you on his side. we might as well use that to our advantage." he concedes, earning an affirmative hum from you.

"i'll give him a response, then. you won't regret this, captain."

⋆⋆⋆

"i'm surprised you've called so quickly." you can hear the amusement in his voice after he answers the phone. "have you come to a decision?" makarov asks.

you let your eyes flutter closed and inhale deeply through your nose, hand clenching and unclenching at your side.

"i have." you reply after a long moment. "are you really wiling to offer me protection from shepherd?"

the grin on his face is evident despite you not seeing it. "i am. all you have to do is help me kill him."

you stifle a surprised laugh. "you're asking for a miracle like it's a small favor." you mutter, to which he sighs, heavy through the speaker.

"i'm confident in your abilities, lieutenant. i will arrange a meeting point and send you the coordinates and time. don't be late."

"punctual. i look forward to it." you respond, sealing your fate as you end the call.

once again, just as you return, you're departing again. you haven't stayed anywhere for longer than a day since escaping the prison, and yet, here you are, preparing to deliver yourself to the maw of the beast. it's almost poetic, just how quickly you've leapt back into danger after weeks of wanting nothing more than to get away from it.

true to his word, you receive a set of coordinates and a time from makarov shortly after the conversation. the only goodbyes you give are rushed words shared with the captain before you take off in an unmarked helicopter, leaving behind promises to explain the situation to those who matter and to get you home as soon as possible.

the location isn't anything of significance, that you're sure of as soon as the helicopter touches down. it's a road just outside of a quiet city, unassuming aside from the sleek black car that sits pulled over to the side. as soon as the gravel crunches under your boots, a man emerges from the vehicle to greet you in a gruff murmur of your callsign. you nod once, unmoving from your position, studying the man as he remains still several feet in front of you.

dressed in painfully normal clothing, a black shirt and a pair of dark weathered jeans, you almost think he's a civilian until your eyes find the patch hastily stuck onto his sleeve, the annoyingly familiar snake skull curving around his bicep as if to taunt anyone who sees it.

he's a mercenary, no doubt. probably someone makarov hired to handle the work his soldiers are above – like this.

as you follow the man to the car, settling in the backseat as he sits in the passenger and vaguely motions to the driver, you briefly wonder just how large makarov's forces are; how far does his influence reach?

you're also left curious about the lack of soldiers. a sign of trust, perhaps? you doubt it, but he's not a man whose decisions are easy to understand. maybe his goal is making you question every little thing that he does, forcing you to stay alert until you exhaust yourself and he has the chance to strike.

the car pulls back onto the road, leaving you to stare out the window as it travels away from the city. the forest surrounding you isn't terribly dense, but enough so that you have to squint to see anything through the passing trees. the winding road heading steadily up a mountain makes it no easier; you searched the coordinates during the flight and saw nothing of significance in the area...

where are they taking you?

the man mumbles something to the driver, catching your attention despite not hearing what he said. the response he receives is in russian and, again, words that you miss due to how quietly they're uttered. once the trees start to thin, however, you assume the sight ahead is what they were discussing.

a villa. a grand one, at that. it's not far from the city, you glance at your watch and time the drive as a half-hour, but the location is secluded, sitting on the cliffside overlooking the population below. it's gated, with armed guards staring the vehicle down as it approaches the entrance; like a stronghold, a private residence barred from any unwanted visitors or influence. it reminds you of las almas, of el sin nombre's villa.

the sun starts to set behind the villa as the car passes the gate and comes to a stop in front of it. the door next to you is suddenly pulled open, yanking your focus from the building as you meet the eye of the soldier, clad in a dark uniform and balaclava, staring you down while holding the door open.

wordlessly, you climb out and narrow your eyes at him, watching as he slams the door shut behind you. there's something familiar about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

as his eyes meet yours, it clicks.

"are you the guard from the prison?" you ask, his tired gaze bringing you back to your imprisonment. it's barely been a day since your escape, and yet that place – the injuries that left you in near-constant misery, the prying eyes watching you, the all-too-kind doctor, the other doctor, your enemy being the only person you could even begin to trust – it all feels so distant, despite being so recent.

the soldier huffs, scratching the side of his jaw through his mask. "i have been a guard in many prisons, you will have to be more specific."

you cross your arms tightly, his voice becoming more recognizable as he speaks. thick accent, perpetual disinterest worn like a badge, treating you with indifference despite not walking away.

"i hope the trip wasn't too difficult, lieutenant." a voice pulls you away, making you turn your head to the side as a "friendly" figure emerges from the set of doors nearby. makarov regards you with a small smile, something akin to pride and a more sincere emotion – relief? – glimmering in the dark recesses of his gaze.

you shrug, standing stiff when he stops in front of you. "i think the trip was the easy part." you mutter.

"you underestimate my sense of hospitality," he chuckles, taking in your fatigued state. "you've had a long day, i'll keep the tour brief tonight. i'm sure you have a lot of questions, hm?" his head tilts to the side for a second, emphasizing the question at the end of his remark.

his behavior is… unexpected, to say the least. you were expecting cold apathy like you experienced in captivity, but instead, makarov seems eager to have you here. you're sure it's all part of a plan that you're unaware of, bigger and more important than yourself.

"that's putting it lightly." you reply, walking two paces behind him when he motions for you to follow him inside. the masked solider follows you after a nod towards makarov, accepting a silent order from his commander.

the interior of the villa is equally as extravagant as the exterior— your breath catches in your throat as your footsteps echo against the tile floor, eyes flitting to the art dotting the walls and the furniture that you're certain costs more than your apartment.

"it's all a bit excessive, don't you think?" you murmur, sending a glance to the man in front of you.

makarov hums, hardly sparing his surroundings any attention. "i think it's fitting," he says, leading you to an elevator. "konni is not like the other crude, second-rate paramilitaries you've encountered, petra... we have a goal, organization, leadership—"

"—that leader being you?" you chuckle, stepping into the elevator and facing him. makarov waves the soldier off and presses one of the buttons on the wall, leaving you alone together when the doors slide shut.

"do you doubt me?" he asks, brows furrowing. "need i remind you who is shouldering the burden of protecting you?" he adds, leaning closer as his voice lowers just slightly. you recognize the look, the intent behind the way he moves closer, forcing you to take a step back to create some distance.

"let's get one thing straight," you mutter, trying to keep your tone steady despite your back meeting the wall. "i don't need protection because you're any better than me. you just give me the freedom i need to move against shepherd without putting my squad at risk."

you pause, wetting your lips, before opening your mouth to continue. any words you planned to say leave you in a short breath as you're literally cornered in the small space, though, blinking at the man in front of you. makarov holds your gaze, amusement clearly written on his expression as his arm lifts, caging you in with a tight fist on the wall next to your head.

"you need me, petra. that is what matters." he leans closer still, shifting to rest his forearm against the wall instead, his lips twitching up in a crooked smile. you try to avert your eyes, to stare at the wall past him, but his other hand comes up to stop you with a firm grip on the sides of your jaw, keeping your head still. "i strongly suggest you find it in yourself to cooperate instead of fighting me. this is a very unique opportunity for us to help each other."

"you..." a frustrated sound escapes from you, only serving to encourage him to tighten his hold, leather-clad fingertips digging into your skin. you need to gain his trust if the plan you discussed with price has any chance of succeeding. we get dirty, world stays clean. killing shepherd is the mission; makarov comes later. play your cards right and you can take out them both.

"fine... i guess i owe you civility, at the very least." you concede, one of your hands shooting up to grab his wrist. "just get your hands off me." you grumble with a pointed glare.

makarov's hand retracts before the complaint even fully leaves your lips. "clever girl. you've made the right choice." he murmurs.

he moves away as the elevator reaches the floor and the door slides open again, immediately revealing a corridor dotted with soldiers – some conversing, some standing guard, others approaching the elevator as makarov steps out with you in tow.

"we'll have time for a proper tour later. in the meantime, if you need help navigating the grounds, any of my men will be happy to assist." he says, marching ahead.

"don't have any more room in your busy schedule for me?" you utter, trailing behind him.

he rounds a corner and keeps walking. "not at the moment, unfortunately." you arrive at a door, where he turns to you once more. "i have matters that require my attention, otherwise i would stay longer. i've arranged a place for you to sleep. i suggest you rest tonight. once we have the general's location, you will be needed."

you nod, admittedly taken aback. "i'll... do that, then. thank you." you stutter out.

"don't mention it." he says, already backing away from you and heading back down the hallway. you try not to stare as he disappears from your sight, intentionally fixing your attention on the door he led you to.

so eccentric, you think.

⋆⋆⋆

you let out a contented sigh as you pull your shirt down over your head, standing in the middle of the sizeable bedroom after your shower. a glance out the window tells you what time it is before you even check— the sun set over the horizon about an hour ago.

when you pick your phone up off the nightstand, there's a message from price waiting for you.

status report? 19:05 pm

you look to the door, debating on a response.

all settled in. nothing significant to report yet. 19:15 pm

good. keep your guard up. 19:15 pm

laswell got into contact with alex earlier. potential base in verdansk. 19:16 pm

need me to handle it? 19:16 pm

no. focus on makarov for now. we'll take care of it. 19:17 pm

copy. good luck. 19:17 pm

save some luck for yourself. stay sharp. 19:18 pm

you shove your phone into your pocket and send the door another look, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. makarov said he would be busy, but... there's something telling you to seek him out, some horrible feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach. you have a lot of questions and very few answers, things weighing on your mind that, to your chagrin, only he can ease.

"fucking fantastic," you say to the empty room, shaking off the feeling and heading out into the corridor. after getting directions from a handful of soldiers and a short elevator ride, you find yourself up on the penthouse floor, standing in front of the set of doors leading to his personal office.

you knock before you have the chance to psyche yourself out, three short taps in quick succession, your shoulders rigid until you hear an "enter" from the other side.

when you step in, letting the door softly click shut behind you, makarov lifts his head from the papers on the desk in front of him. you don't move immediately, standing with your back pressed against the smooth wood, your eyes flitting around the neatly-kept space before meeting his.

before you can say anything, he lifts a hand to stop you, bringing your attention to the phone next to his ear.

"i don't care about the weather, alexi," he mutters into the speaker, his focus never shifting from you. "you are leading a group of soldiers, not children, they can handle a storm. communicate the old-fashioned way if you're so worried about signal issues." he continues.

you awkwardly linger in your spot, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. his jaw tenses as his gaze narrows, and for a moment, a small part of you worries that the ire might be directed at you for intruding at an inconvenient time.

"i can come back," you whisper, hand already reaching for the knob behind you.

"stay." he replies, making you freeze. "no, not you, сволочь— just deliver the gas according to the schedule. i won't accept anything later than that." he grumbles into the speaker before hanging up the call and dropping his phone onto the papers, sighing heavily and moving to rub the fatigue from his eyes.

gas? as in, the chemical gas you saw in al-mazrah?

"pleasant conversation?" you tease, earning a pointed glare.

he stands from his chair with a soft groan. "what are you here for?"

you step further into the room, watching as he circles around the desk to meet you in the middle. "not sure. care to educate me on the gas you were talking about, though?" you smile, folding your hands in front of yourself.

makarov eyes you down, scrutinizing you, but gives in after a brief staring contest that you arguably win.

"after we succeed in urzikstan and the kremlin realizes what must be done, we will move on to their allies." he begins, speaking slowly. "my soldiers are making the preparations as we speak, planting it within each target nation."

as he continues, that prior feeling returns tenfold, and you mutter, "the gas used in al-mazrah and vondel?"

he nods, unchanging, even as your expression freely gives away the unease and anger steadily building under your skin. "exactly that. this is just the first step."

there's an emotion on his face, something haunting that makes your chest tighten. total apathy, as if the consequences of his actions mean nothing to him. they don't, your reasonable side is well aware of that, but the sheer wrongness of the situation nags at you, pushing you to try to prevent it in whatever ways you can.

"okay, i know you don’t care about innocent lives being lost," you start, crossing your arms over your chest. "but, i do. i'm not going to stand by and watch you destroy the world over some... bullshit hunt for glory! if you use that gas, i'm backing out." you assert. he steps back from you, creating a comfortable distance.

"i thought you were here for a reason, petra. unless, you've changed your mind?" makarov asks with a curious lilt, turning to face away from you.

your arms drop to your sides as your hands clench into fists. "we both know how deadly that gas is – it can kill millions. i'd rather take my chances with the government than assist you with that."

makarov hums in acknowledgement, standing in front of his desk now, and you watch as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey and empty tumbler sitting near the edge.

"are you seriously pouring yourself a drink right now?" you pause your rant, positively fuming while he pours the liquid into the glass. is this all some kind of fucking joke to him?

"i find it easier to listen when i have a drink," makarov replies. he produces a second glass and fills it up, before turning back to you. "but, you do raise a fair point, lieutenant. these plans can be delayed a little while longer." he says, holding it out to you in offering.

you take the glass slowly, confused. "just... like that? so easy?" you hesitate, distrustful— for good reason, too.

the amber liquid swirls in makarov's glass when he moves his hand, dismissing your concerns. "there are still steps between now and then. having you as an ally is far more important in the present."

"wh... just like that?" you parrot, gawking at him when he hands you his glass and walks past you, heading to the door. you spin on your heel and stare at the back of his head as he twists the knob and swings the door open.

he barely acknowledges you when he waves over his shoulder, again, dismissing it. "don't spend too much time on it. focus on the situation in the present."

as he disappears into the corridor, leaving the door to the very private room wide open behind him, you're completely dumbfounded. you came to him for answers; instead of getting that, all you have are more questions.

focus on the situation in the present.

it just sounds like a long-winded way of saying, "direct your anger at anyone but me."

from a tactical standpoint, it's hard to disagree. you're allies with this man, even if it is temporary. no matter how harsh his methods and unreasonable his beliefs, you'll have to learn to tolerate it. your eyes fall to the untouched glasses in your hands, then to the desk behind you, and finally back to the door.

"what the hell have i gotten myself into?"

translations:

сволочь (svoloch) - bastard

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[imadeitworseyourwelcome]

The Dead Don't Heal

Previous

Part 2- you are here

Returning to the nemesis Starscream felt like he was in a haze. Skyfire slowly trudged behind Megatron.

He didn't so much as look his way. He wasn't looking at anyone. His eyes were hollow, empty. There was no emotion on his face.

The only sign of life was the unnatural purple glow of his optics.

The centuries of frost had left chips and small fissures in his armor. Sections of paint had been stripped away by shifting ice and his less than graceful extraction.

Starscream finally snatched his gaze away from Skyfire as the main screen flickered to life. Soundwave called up a recording- no a live feed of the autobots battling vechicons in an energon mine.

Megatron let out an annoyed snarl, but after a moment his scowl shifted to an evil grin, "Perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to test out my new warrior," he gestured to Skyfire.

Starscream felt his spark drop and he immediately blurted, "No!" 

Though the glare Megatron fixed on him made him realize he had acted rashly. Speaking without thinking.

"You continue to question my judgment?!" Megatron snapped, prompting Skyfire to take a menacing step forward.

"No, no! Of course not." He bowed his head, unable to bare looking at Skyfire being used as a weapon. "What I meant was, the drones can easily fight off the autobots." He explained quickly, "Why waste such an element of surprise on a spent energon mine?"

He chose his words carefully, Megatron was more than eager to throw Skyfire into battle.

He'd do anything to keep Skyfire out of harms way.

Megatron took a moment, resting his hand on his chin as he thought.

"Hmm... perhaps." He finally nodded, "Starscream, take a squad to defend the energon mine."

"As you command, Lord Megatron," He turned on his heel and quickly walked out of the room. As soon as the doors closed behind him he took off running towards the deck of the nemesis. He didn't dare give Megatron time to change his mind.

.

.

.

He and the squad quickly made their way to the energon mine.

By the time they arrived, the autobots had exited the mine, pursued by what was left of the vechicons already on site.

Starscream led the fliers on a pass over the autobots, sending them diving for cover.

The autobots now split up, returned fire. It felt like they were shooting from all angles.

Being in the sky was supposed to be an advantage.

He broke away from the rest of the fliers and swooped low, weaving among the abandoned mining equipment and rubble.

Starscream transformed, skidding across the ground. He aimed a rocket as he stopped, shooting it at Arcee and Bumblebee, who were breaking off and moving to flank them.

Forcing them back behind their cover.

The vechicons moved up to support him. If they kept the pressure on them, they would overwhelm them in no time.

A familiar noise caught his attention, it was barely audible over the gunfire. The rumble of a large engine coming closer.

"No-" he gasped as he turned to see

Skyfire's alt mode approaching, flying right towards the autobots.

Skyfire transformed, landing hard and sending up a cloud of dust. He stalked towards the autobots, who were caught off guard by an unknown bot joining the fight.

They quickly realized he was no ally, and split their attention between the vechicons and him.

Starscream swore under his breath. They had been used as a distraction.

Skyfire's movements were uncoordinated but strong. His heavy strikes swung wide, easy to predict, and easy to dodge. But with the decepticons long range and Skyfire up close, they were starting to lose ground.

The autobots' blasters peppered Skyfire's thick armor, but he continued to advance, undeterred.

Starscream prayed that he wasn't able to feel the pain...

It felt like a dagger to the spark, seeing his conjunx reduced to a mindless husk. Forced to fight a war he never knew.

Starscream transformed and took the the sky, doing his best to lay down cover fire for Skyfire.

Forcing the autobots away from him. At this point he didn't care if they escaped with the energon or not, he just wanted them to stop shooting Skyfire.

Finally, pinned down, the autobots called for a groundbrige and soon retreated through it with their spoils.

As soon as they were gone Skyfire stopped moving. Returning to standing still, staring blankly to where the portal had dissapeared.

The decepticons dispursed, leaving Starscream and Skyfire alone on the battlefield, among the whisps of smoke and blasterburns.

Starscream walked to stand infront of Skyfire. His gaze looked through him, still watching where the autobots had escaped.

Was this truly all that was left of Skyfire? Of his conjunx endura? Long dead and reduced to a puppet. Another pawn for Megatron to throw around.

Having Skyfire here, just out of reach. Stung more than when he was missing, lost somewhere on this wretched planet.

If he hadn't given up, if he'd just kept searching... maybe it wouldn't have come to this.

Starscream bit back tears as he snatched his gaze away. Everytime he looked at him, it was like he was losing him all over again.

He knew Megatron was doing this to be cruel. Parading him around just to torture him. As long as he showed that it bothered him, he would keep going.

He had to let go, know that his conjunx was dead. He died a long, long time ago.

The bot that stood before him isn't Skyfire. Not anymore. They were a stranger.

He steeled himself, looking up to bid his conjunx a final goodbye.

Only to find Skyfire looking back at him. Not through him, at him.

Starscream froze. There was still a haze to Skyfire's eyes, but Starscream swore they were a hint more blue than before.

Skyfire looked scared. His conjunx was there. And Starscream had almost given up on him...

But as quick as it had happened, his eyes went dull again. And he was gone.

"..Skyfire..?" Starscream choked on his words, a flicker of hope. That's what he had lived on for years. That's all he needed.

He had found Skyfire, he was still within his reach... now he needed to figure out how to get him back.

(Contrubutions by @sirtrashfire )

[dreamcast641]

RAINBOW SIX OC: Lilja Järvinen

there it is a bit with lilja's bio that for sure it will not be completed fully as I want to make a sort of bio like r6s operators in future plus she doesnt have a reference draw for her yet so...I'll reblog if any change is made :D --------------------------------- GENERAL INFOS

Full name: Lilja Järvinen

aliases/nicknames: One of the first thing that Harry did as soon as she joined the rainbow six is to think about how to refer to her and ''hound'' was what came into his mind immediately. Later then Lilja decided to just translate it into her native language, becoming it ''koira''but she likes the hound one as well

Age: around 30-35 years old

Gender: cis Female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexual orientation: Unknown, probably bisexual

Date of birth: April 30th

Place of birth: Kemijärvi, Laplan, finland

Current residence: Unknown

Nationality: finnish

Spoken languages: Finnish(main), Swedish(second one learned) and english

Affiliations/organizations: Rainbow six, utti jager regiment, finnish army

Occupation: K-9 operative with certification got with training and working with police and army dogs and robotic engineer with a egree in automation engineering, computer engineering

Rank: Unknown

(temporary reference)

APPEARANCE

By the national average, Lilja is a rather short woman who stands at around 166 cm tall. She is slim and athletic, with messy blonde hair, freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose, and eyes with partial heterochromia on both irises that are both blue and brown in color, which are easily distinguishable between the two. She is the one who usually wears heavy, long clothes that are uncomfortable when it comes to grabbing objects and that hide her body well. She wears glasses because she is astigmatic, which she removes to use contact lenses when she has to work in the field. more facts about her aspect: -Lilja has a lot of bite wounds on her body, done of course by the dogs she worked in the past with most of them being reactive ones that easily snapped when something even small bothered them. The most visible one is on her left cheek that resembles a two cut done by a feline instead of a dog and people usually asks her how could a dog do such damage; -She always wanted a tattoo on her left cheek that resembled a dog jaw but changed her mind when she wasn't allowed to do so in the army. -She doesn't hide her body due to insecurity, in fact, she also can wear swimming costumes and bikinis, she just prefers baggy clothes over normal ones.

Favorites and personality traits

-Color: Mint green

-Food: Lihapullat (finnish meatballs)

-Drink: Hot chocolate

-Song: Killer by Mareux

-Flower: Lilly of the valley

-Hairstyle: wolfcut Moral alignment: Chaotic good MBTI: INTP Personality overview:

Lilja is a reserved woman by nature, she doesn't like to talk to people too much and generally prefers to be alone. Sometimes she seems detached and lost in her thoughts, it almost seems like her brain is constantly working, constantly creating new thoughts. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, as she always has new ideas that she can implement in the form of robotic objects useful to her team. She seems to prefer small speeches to long, deep ones, which is often not in good taste with other operators and those in command, but she often ignore the thoughts of others. This doesn't mean she's a totally insensitive person, she just doesn't know how to relate to people without seeming weird, which leads her to avoid social situations most of the time.

BASIC INFOS AS RAINBOW SIX OPERATOR:

Name: Lilja ''hound/koira''Järvinen Side: defender Squad: Nighthaven (she probably joined them because they were more willing to fund her projects) Speciality: Anti-gadget, Intel and trapper Unity: Utti jaeger regiment support battalion/support company-trains conscripts in support tasks and handles logistics in cooperation with the Logistics Centre.

OPERATOR ICON:

BASIC LOADOUT

Primary weapons: -Assault rifle, RK 95

-9.00 submachine gun 2000

-pump-action shotgun remington police

Secondary weapon:

-Pistol 80/Pistol 80-91

Gadgets

-Smoke grenade -Frag grenade -Claymore

LOADOUT PART 2: Unique ability:

''K-9 puppies'' Highly intelligent robotic dogs with different speciality based on the selected one. They can be used as attack weapons, anti gadget, trapper or intel. They are all comanded by a tablet which makes you vulnerable to the attackers that can sneak and kill you. The robotic dogs are not vulnerable to bulletts or explosives. BIOGRAPHY

COMING SOON PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT: COMING SOON

[harrison-armory-incorporated]

More Changes.

Jimbo here - I'm the official head of the revived PR project now, they debated firing me after the entire fiasco with Arthur that Fireman caused but after learning what actually happened, I got promoted from office jockey to office overlord I guess. I also made my own blog on here in case you want to see HA-Unaffiliated posts - @jimboing-it-out. Anyway since there was no one but me by the end in the office, we got an influx of new spokespeople from one of the more recent squads, I guess, they're mostly Veterans and newer active Legionaries;

>>MAJOR ; Subutai Pilot, squad lead as you may have guessed by the name. Wears power-armor all the time, not the Size 1/2 Mech kinda PA, the smaller, older stuff for infantry, don't think he ever takes it off - Rumor has it he's actually melted into that thing. >>FELLMONGER ; Gilgamesh Pilot, squad's support jockey - Used to be a hunter back on his homeworld who fucked around with skins and hides ; These days he prefers skinning/gutting mechs instead and decorates his Gilg with enemy mech heads as trophies. You'll see him posting here the most since he's not only the youngest and easily the most patriotic, but also because he's technically the one officially in charge of the account now. >>LOCK ; Barbarossa Pilot, squad's heavy weapons guy. Used to be an officer in the Navy before she found herself more at home in the gunnery seat of a ship cannon - Then she realized she could be piloting one on legs and changed professions very quickly. >>ARTUSH ; Brudenell Pilot - You all know this guy, he's the THOR-Class NHP that cascaded, we decided that instead of really shackling him down again fully, he'd do wonders in the good old Rocket Coffin. Also insisted that we call him Artush instead of Arthur, despite them being basically the same name - Who am I to judge?

[oshlet]

Three CRM light mechs (two snow-dopes, one snow-dope heavy) on patrol in the flats of Sond's north pole, acting as a show of force in response to increasing ice-pirate activity in the region. The North Pole watchpoint maintains a garrison of 15 light mechs at all times, alongside a host of transport and utility vehicles and experimental units undergoing testing in the isolated region.

The Snow Dope is a fairly standard light mech, featuring a head mounted point defence laser, back mounted choke-grenade launcher and normally equipped with an autocannon rifle and shoulder-mounted single-shot laser array. The Dope heavy is almost identical save for additional support servos on the legs, a waist mount for a heavy weapon and its ammunition, a second shoulder mount and a bulked up cooling system.

Most models of heavy dope have no additional armour compared to the standard and are thus marked as priority targets by enemy combatants. Their extra weight and size also makes them less manoeuvrable, making them unpopular to pilot. That said, the additional firepower is always respected and the rest of the squad will usually make efforts to defend their heavy.

[girlactionfigure]

🟢HOSTAGE SPEAKS OUT, IRAQ THREATENS - Real time from Israel  

▪️A HERO SOLDIER HAS FALLEN.. in battle in Lebanon: Ariel Sosnov Sasonov, 20, from Jerusalem.  May his family be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem, and may G-d avenge his blood!

▪️NEW LAW - DEPORTATION OF TERROR FAMILIES.. the Knesset approved in second and third reading the law to deport families of terrorists if they knew in advance or expressed support for the act of terrorism.

▪️LEAK INVESTIGATION.. the IDF officer arrested on suspicion of stealing documents: “The materials should have reached the Prime Minister, and I (took the documents to) bypass my superiors (and get them to the Prime Minister).”

▪️A HOSTAGE SAYS.. Hamas former hostage Mia Shem addresses the UN: “Not a single humanitarian agency saw me or treated me, even as my arm got worse. Where was the Red Cross? Where was the UN demanding that they have access to us? On day fifty, I was lowered into the tunnels of hell, where I was kept in a small cage with five other Israeli women. It's been over a year and the UN hasn’t lifted a finger to free the hostages. You sit here in your comfortable chairs debating the lives of my friends as if they are a political issue and not innocent people being tortured by terrorists.”

♦️SAMARIA - TULKARM.. Air Force aircraft attacked a squad of armed terrorists in Tulkarm this morning.

♦️SAMARIA - JENIN.. Overnight counter-terror ops, significant firefights, throwing of explosive devices at forces for an hour and a half in various locations in the city of Jenin, such as the Cinema Square, the Horse Square, and the Martyrs' Square.

♦️LEBANON - Nabatia.. attacked during the day command and control complexes and munitions warehouses of Hezbollah.

♦️LEBANON - Over 110 targets hit by the Air Force. 

♦️LEBANON - Beirut.. Heavy overnight airstrikes, in particular in a neighborhood near the AIRPORT.

♦️LEBANON - former Hezbollah leader Nasrallah’s extended family killed during an attack on the town of al-Bazooriya in southern Lebanon.

♦️LEBANON - IDF is systematically demolishing the Lebanese border towns, which were ALL used as attack points, launch points, and weapons storage against Israel.

 🔪ATTEMPTED TERROR - JERUSALEM.. Police neutralized a terrorist who tried to carry out a drive-by attack in Anata in East Jerusalem. A vehicle accelerated towards the fighters with a wild drive and did not listen to the calls of the fighters who acted instead of stopping, who fired at the driver.

🔹IRAQ THREATENS - THE U.S.?  Secretary General of the Iraqi Al Najaba Movement: If Israel attacks Iran through Iraqi airspace, we will attack the American bases.

💩ANALYSIS - note the ongoing pattern in the item above that we see from Iran, Iraq, Hezbollah, Shia Militias, and the Houthis:

(1) We attack you.  (2) We threaten to attack you worse if you respond to us attacking you.  (3) We continue to attack you.

🔹IRAN SAYS.. Iranian Foreign Ministry spokesman: "We will evaluate the performance of the new (Trump administration) government and its practical directions."

⭕HEZBOLLAH ANNOUNCES use of new “Noor 1” fat rocket, used yesterday in attacking Avivim - causing LARGE FIRES in areas they hit.

[pinturas-segunda-guerra-mundial]

1942 07 23 Rostov street fighting - John Shumate

Troops from the SS-Division Wiking fight their way down a street in Rostov-on-Don, 23 July 1942. Support fire for the infantrymen is provided by a 2cm FlaK 38 gun (manned by a two-man team) from the heavy-weapons company of the III./SSRgt Germania. One of the team, the gunner, sits on the seat and directs the firing, while the other maintains ammunition supply. Although 2cm FlaK guns were designed for low- to medium altitude anti-aircraft fire, they provided excellent support-fire capabilities for infantry, with an effective range of nearly 6,000m and a cyclical rate of fire of 120rd/min. The gun is acting in support of a squad of grenadiers from the III./SS-Rgt Germania, under the leadership of an SS Rottenführer, who is shouting commands for the extraction of a wounded soldier. Several of the men are armed with MP 40 SMGs, with the corresponding slender canvas magazine pouches. Note the soldier dragging his comrade to safety – as was a standard practice, he has filled a bread bag with stick grenades, for ready access to them during house-clearing operations.

[jakey-beefed-it]

Built all 10 scouts. Built them as 2 squads of five, each with Sergeant (chainsword & bolt pistol), sniper, missile launcher, and 2 shotguns. Everybody got camo cloaks. Between 2 stormcast heads and a statuesque minis head, 3 of them are girls- a sergeant, a missile launcher, and a sniper rifle. Also stuck a cool stormcast dude head on the other sergeant, so he gets to have a goatee and dreadlocks.

Thinking in actual games I'll use them mostly to dash out and contest midfield objectives (taking the hit to heavy weapons on the move) but they'll be Not Terrible at ranged support, and the sergeants will be able to melee kill like, fire warriors and guardians anyway.

Considered building them all with shotguns and just really leaning into the assault weapons but nah; they look cooler this way.

[hyakatakatales]

“These bloody bandits will pay for their crimes!”

Announced suddenly and without prompt, the youngest member of the militia squad practically shouted the statement, and then looked around nervously to the rest of his mates, clearly looking for support.

None was found, these were all dour-faced men, they knew how well the bandits were equipped and manned.  We were trained to contend with the simple weapons and fare they had been reported to have, not this.   Bows, real swords, even mages at times.  We were not prepared for the mages most of all. 

We lost three men during the initial attack, we surrounded their camp and tried to flush them out.  It didn’t matter how careful our planning was, all strategies went out the window when fireballs and bolts of lightning came flying out of their main camp building, sizzling the ground and igniting the trees nearby.  Everyone hugged the ground, thinking the casting can’t go on forever, I knew magic of this level takes a heavy toll on its user.  That was our saving grace, in the end.

We pushed forward, sieging the house.  Mages are notorious for not enjoying hand-to-hand combat and we counted on that, sweeping aside the stragglers who were just as dazzled as we were by the pyrotechnics. 

A haze of smoke and wreckage littered the campgrounds, the blasts and discharges creating a sort of under-canopy which reduced visibility to mere yalms.  From the building, there was a great eruption of wood splinters and noise, cascading across the ground.  The door was blown off the building and standing there was this shabbily dressed mage, staring into the night. 

I pushed ahead, using my size to my advantage as I got closer, sticking to shadows and trying desperately to flank this maddened mage.  He was screaming something incoherent, raising his staff into the air and charging his magic for another no doubt deadly blast.  Acting quickly, and while some stairs below him, I used my shield to sweep his legs out from underneath him.  He was so entranced with his own power that he failed to react, he landed hard on his side, knocking the wind out of his lungs. 

Before he was able to consider his next move, I smashed his staff from his hands, sending it spiraling out into the night.  We recovered it later, it was a craggy shattered thing, how it managed to not explode in his hands was a miracle.

As he started to right himself to recover, a punch square in the forehead sent him reeling, disoriented and spinning back into the house. 

“Secure the rest, then cover me!” I shouted, sprinting after the mage into the house.  It was dark, and only lit by the fires and torches outside.  Shadows shifted and loomed in the mid-twilight of the Shroud, and I couldn’t see the mage anymore.  Knowing I had maybe a few minutes before he was able to cast again, I cast my eyes around, looking for any sign of the man.  In the corner, behind a turned-over table, I found him cowering. 

“You have no staff, no crew and no hope.  Surrender and we will prosecute you fairly.”  It was my only warning; I knew better than to relax my guard.  His anxiety suddenly sagged, and he started nodding “Yes, surrender, yes.”

My sword out and pointed at him, I followed his advance from around the table towards me.  I didn’t see his face; I looked at his hands.  A man’s hands, mage or not, will tell you way more than their face.  He twitched, pushed a hand out and started shouting something with far too many vowels in it.  I panicked, remembering the devastation outside this hovel and pushed my sword into his chest, making sure I didn’t stop until it came out the other side. 

I was commended by the militia’s office for bravery and decision-making in the heart of battle.  I was promoted for the cost of a man’s life.  That still sits unwell with me.

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: February 23, 2025

Reworked Group #2: Regular Army

Overview

As international matters related to criminality and political issues continued to deteriorate, the Earth Federation, a unified global governing body comprising representatives from every country's government, was approached by a civilian officer who led the Joint Military Operations Headquarters. The officer suggested establishing a peacekeeping military branch, leading to the creation of the Regular Army. Following this, the civilian officer was promoted to dual leadership roles: President of World Security for the Earth Federation and Chief of the Regular Army. The forces were then divided into seven garrisons: the North American Garrison, the South American Garrison, the European Garrison, the Eurasian Garrison, the Asian Garrison, the Middle Eastern Garrison, the African Garrison, and the Oceania Garrison.

The Intelligence Agency was integrated into the Regular Army amidst concerns that it was becoming too autonomous with its own combat unit, sparking fears among ordinary citizens. Agents from the Intelligence Agency undertook high-risk missions, including deliberately allowing themselves to be captured to supply allies with ammunition and heavy weapons. Others conducted espionage and assassination operations.

The Regular Army established the Marine Corps to serve as a specialised force for naval and amphibious warfare as well as water-borne operations. Its primary mission is to deter aggression and maintain freedom of the seas. The Peregrine Falcons Squad, part of the Joint Military Police Headquarters, and the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., affiliated with the Intelligence Agency, served as special forces units within the Regular Army. Later, the Ikari Warriors, a mercenary organisation, and Division 6, a group that defected from the Japanese Infantry of the Rebel Army, joined forces with the Regular Army after reaching an agreement.

The Regular Army was established to maintain peace and order among nations and provide orphaned and abandoned teenagers with a chance for a better future. Often shunned by society and left to fend for themselves, these young individuals were adopted by them. They offered the teenagers a supportive environment, basic necessities like food and clothing, proper education, and a stable income through jobs catered to their talents. This not only helped them become self-sufficient but also served as a means of recruiting new soldiers. The Regular Army was revered as a symbol of hope and unity, embodying a strong sense of justice and duty. Composed of idealistic and courageous individuals who genuinely wanted to serve and protect the international world, they inspired hope for a safer future for all.

Over time, the leadership of the Regular Army became increasingly power-hungry and corrupt as the chief grew dissatisfied with the military organisation's finances and resource development. In a surprising turn of events, a man known as President Marx approached the Regular Army with an offer they couldn't refuse: his company would become their primary defence contractor, supplying them with weaponry, tanks, and other essential equipment. Furthermore, President Marx would influence the chief and his colleagues to exploit their authority for personal gain and political manipulation, exacerbating the corruption within the Regular Army's leadership. The superiors are the only ones aware of the information that President Marx's supplies are tainted with questionable business dealings, ethical quandaries, and possible human rights issues, such as exploitative labour practices and financial irregularities.

The Regular Army's leadership began to engage in illicit activities, but their corruption remained concealed from public scrutiny through a combination of propaganda, media manipulation, and strategic cover-ups. While their public image remained heroic, they simultaneously conducted clandestine operations behind closed doors. These covert activities included expanding their influence, controlling resources, threatening the lives of their soldiers' families, and silencing whistleblowers within the organization, further solidifying their grip on power. The corrupt leadership of the Regular Army took measures to preserve the idealism of low-ranking soldiers and new recruits regarding world peace, deliberately keeping them uninformed about the corruption. Meanwhile, many high-ranking officers were either complicit in the corruption or actively contributed to its perpetuation.

The corrupt leadership of the Regular Army teamed up with Ghyslaine to establish the Amadeus Syndicate, which served as a front for covert experimentation with hazardous technologies, the exploitation of living beings, including Martians and humans, and the manipulation of psionic energy. These experiments had far-reaching consequences, including the development of hyper-advanced nuclear weaponry and the transformation of Hyakutaro into the first recorded esper of contemporary history. Additionally, they created an unnamed prototype of the Metal Slug tank, powered by nuclear energy, but it was quickly abandoned due to its potentially catastrophic risks.

Rumours have circulated that the Amadeus Syndicate and Regular Army discovered a Martian crash site in a remote desert, utilising the technological debris and remains of the deceased alien entities for scientific research and experiments.

Although the Regular Army never intended to use their hyper-advanced nuclear weaponry themselves, they had been secretly lending it to various organisations, including the Ptolemaic Army and Amadeus Syndicate. These groups planned to exploit the weapons at opportune moments, seeking to maximise their impact and avoid squandering the arsenal's devastating potential. The Regular Army provided them with such a dangerous arsenal because they believed that a balance between good and evil was necessary.

As the 21st century dawned, they disregarded numerous terrorist attacks, viewing them as insignificant global threats. However, their inaction would ultimately tarnish their reputation, prompting them to employ strategic measures to mitigate the damage. These measures included assassinating journalists who threatened to expose them and manipulating public opinion to their advantage. Unbeknownst to them, their failure to act against the Central Park bombing in 2023 would inadvertently pave the way for the emergence of the Rebel Army.

The Intelligence Agency was wrongly blamed for the bombing in Central Park, Ottawa, and subsequently discredited by a corrupt command chain. They protested, arguing that the criticism was unjustified and that ignorant senior officers were truly responsible for the failure. However, their objections were swiftly silenced by the Chief of the Regular Army and his loyal supporters. This unjust narrative persisted for years with many Regular Army commanders and some informed individuals blaming the Intelligence Agency for alleged intelligence failures. In reality, the command chain consistently ignored crucial information provided by the Intelligence Agency. A select few, including Tequila and Clark, were aware of this systemic issue and recognized that the true problem lay with the command chain's willful ignorance.

Insignia

It features an emerald-hued heater shield with a green gold motto ribbon, bearing the Latin inscription "Nos globum defendemus" ("We will defend the globe" in English) in black. The shield depicts a gilded longsword with outstretched wings, surrounded by a flame-coloured halo with radiating light rays behind its hilt.

Uniforms

Cadet Uniform

They wear a blue-grey short-sleeved jacket with a brass six-button front, four pockets, and two hidden strapped compartments. They don a black utility belt that secures essential gear, and an African violet armband displays the Regular Army insignia. They also wear blue-grey army cargo pants with additional pockets, tucked into caput mortuum paratrooper boots. They carry a massive light grey load-bearing backpack containing camping gear and various military supplies.

Commanding Officer Uniform

They wear a linden green jacket with the Regular Army insignia embroidered on the back, gilded epaulettes, and two breast pockets. The coat features a metallic silver eight-button front and shawl-style collar. They pair this with a light blue dress shirt, a Tyrian purple cravat, and a built-in rifle green utility belt that has a cummerbund-like appearance. Their ultramarine trousers feature a vertical silvery stripe pattern and are either tucked or untucked into polished black leather boots with a low heel. They complete their uniform with a wedge cap made of linden green seal fur, adorned with a gold band edged with emerald piping and a central line of a flame hue.

Peacekeeper Uniform

Low-ranking peacekeeping troops wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a unique camouflage pattern of cerulean, lavender grey, and Cambridge blue, which holds ammunition and their walkie-talkie. Their uniform consists of a blue-green Lightweight Helmet (LWH), a reseda chartreuse armband displaying the Regular Army insignia, and a lavender moisture-wicking dress shirt with an open collar. They wear light grey gloves and a taupe utility belt with a holster for their handgun, a sheath for their combat knife, eight blue-green pouches for ammo, and a coyote brown waist pack for rolling bombs. In addition to their SPCS, they wear a matching camouflage jacket and army cargo pants, featuring the same distinctive cerulean, lavender grey, and Cambridge blue pattern. Their cargo pants are equipped with built-in knee pads and adorned with three silver stripes on the left leg, which are tucked into sturdy navy blue combat boots.

They carry around a taupe load-bearing backpack containing various supplies, including handheld rockets, portable ammo boxes, communication devices, portable water purification systems, first aid kits, rations, maps and navigation tools, and cultural and language guides. Their arsenal includes a large bazooka capable of firing explosives with low levels of nuclear radiation, a special material shield that absorbs shocks, an anti-personnel sniper rifle, and a minigun that shoots rounds filled with corrosive acid. Some troops are responsible for carrying and operating mid-range artillery mortars that fire homing missiles. A few are responsible for operating portable AA Machine Gun Turrets, which requires a team of three or four men to carry.

High-ranking peacekeeping troops wear uniforms similar to those of Rebel Army bodyguards, but with several distinct differences. Their exosuits are crafted from a unique blend of dark, metallic carbon fibre and adaptive, hexagonal titanium plates that have a greyish-green sheen. The headpiece features a nanotech-enhanced air filter with self-healing membranes and four durable, translucent tubes connecting to dual, high-capacity oxygen canisters on the suit's back, ensuring extended operational duration. It’s equipped with a voice modulator featuring AI-driven noise cancellation, surrounded by retractable, silver-tipped stubs for secure communications connections.

The high-impact bluish-purple resistant eye slits offer advanced capabilities, including low-light enhancement via quantum dot technology, thermal imaging, AI-powered threat detection, and real-time language translation via neural network integration. A rhomboid electric lamp, housed in a protective, aerodynamic casing, is centred on the forehead and automatically activates in low-light environments. The headpiece proudly displays the Regular Army insignia on its rear, accompanied by the national flag of the country the wearer serves emblazoned underneath.

When activated, the suit's propulsion system amplifies the wearer's movements, granting incredible jumping and running capabilities. The AI-powered computer system provides real-time strategic analysis with predictive threat modelling, seamless control of integrated weapon systems, and dynamic mission parameter updates via neural network sync. The built-in load-bearing backpack features modular compartments for various supplies, including smoke canisters, stun grenades, flashbangs, a hydration pack with self-purifying water and electrolyte-rich nanofluids, an advanced first-aid kit, energy bars with nano-encapsulated nutrients, and fire starters with plasma ignition.

Underneath their exoskeletons, they wear sapphire-hued bodysuits made of heat-resistant, bulletproof latex, along with a vest featuring four pockets and a camouflage pattern identical to that of the SPCS worn by low-ranking peacekeeping troops.

Urban Uniform

They wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a unique camouflage pattern of asphalt black, dirty grey, cordovan, and raw umber, which holds ammunition and their walkie-talkie. Their uniform consists of a steel grey Modular Integrated Communications Helmet (MICH), a mahogany armband displaying the Regular Army insignia, and a black moisture-wicking T-shirt. They wear khaki beige tactical gloves with grip palms and a dark brown drop leg holster for their taser. They don a black utility belt with a holster for their handgun, a sheath for their combat knife, eight mocha pouches for ammo, and a sandy beige waist pack for smoke bombs.

They wear rugged, low-profile black combat boots with a grippy sole, slate grey knee and elbow pads, and army cargo pants with two bronze stripes on the left leg. Their jacket and cargo pants match their SPCS, featuring the same distinctive asphalt black, dirty grey, cordovan, and raw umber camouflage pattern. They carry around a khaki beige load-bearing backpack that contains various supplies such as grenades, portable ammo boxes, flashbangs, a hydration pack with a built-in water filter, and a compact first-aid kit.

Special Forces

Troops who work for the Peregrine Falcons Squad wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a rose quartz, silver-grey, and gunmetal camouflage pattern, which holds ammunition and their walkie-talkie. Their uniform consists of a rosy brown ballistic helmet, brass-plated goggles, a Mountbatten pink armband displaying the Regular Army insignia, and a sleeveless bone white shirt. They wear brown leather gloves, a blue-grey vest with the P.F. Squad logo on the back, four pockets, and two hidden strapped compartments, and an earthy green utility belt with a sheath for their combat knife and a holster for their handgun. They also wear army cargo pants with five crimson stripes on the right leg, which are tucked into earthy green paratrooper boots. Their cargo pants match their SPCS, featuring the same distinctive rose quartz, silver-grey, and gunmetal camouflage pattern.

Troops who work for the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a brownish-orange, earth yellow, and khaki camouflage pattern, which holds ammunition and their walkie-talkie. Their uniform consists of a citron ballistic helmet with a bright orange futuristic visor, a platinum grey armband displaying the Regular Army insignia, and a cinereous T-shirt. They wear chestnut brown wristbands and a taupe grey Eisenhower jacket with the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. logo on the back and two hidden strapped compartments.

They don a chestnut brown utility belt with a sheath for their hatchet, a holster for their handgun, a holder for their tonfa, and a goldenrod waist pack for a medical kit. They also wear burnt orange paratrooper boots and army cargo pants with four saffron-yellow stripes on the right leg. Their cargo pants match their SPCS, featuring the same distinctive rose quartz, silver-grey, and gunmetal camouflage pattern.

They both carry around dark brown load-bearing duffle bags that contain various supplies such as grenades, fire bombs, cyber warfare kits with advanced hacking tools, secure communication devices, first-aid kits, waterproof match cases, portable ammo boxes, and canteens full of water.

Pilot Uniforms

Troops operating as tank pilots wear a sleeveless champagne-hued shirt, a greyish-brown vest with four pockets, and fingerless black gloves. They also wear a greyish-brown helmet with bronze-plated goggles featuring red-orange lenses, paired with harvest gold army cargo pants tucked into blackish-blue paratrooper boots. Additionally, they wear a black belt with a silver buckle, a holster for their handgun, six citron pouches for ammunition, and a cognac waist pack containing a medical kit and several smoke bombs. Their arsenal includes a sledgehammer, a foldable multitool, a portable Gatling gun, and a rocket launcher.

Troops who operate as aircraft pilots wear a standardised military flight suit with a camouflage pattern of army green, brown, and dark grey. They don burnt orange leather jackets with grey wolf fur trim and the Regular Army insignia on the left breast pocket. They wear luxor gold helmets with dark-tinted visors and earth-toned oxygen masks as well as desert sand woollen scarves around their necks. They also wear insulated, grip-enhancing blood red gloves, ankle-high, steel-toed steel grey boots with rugged soles, and secure harnesses in durable silver for attachment to aircraft seats or parachutes.

Scientist Uniform

Scientists working in this field are required to wear suitable personal protective equipment (PPE) for both laboratory experiments and field duties. To distinguish themselves from regular scientists, they wear a metallic orange armband featuring the Regular Army insignia. Their protective gear includes jade green hazmat suits with built-in luxor gold gas masks equipped with purple-tinted lenses. It also includes lab coats with two hidden compartments for storing military-issued firearms and blades, authorised for self-defence purposes.

Tactical Gear

Winter and Desert Gear

Snowy gear consists of a frosty white parka, light grey Gore-Tex pants, icy blue waterproof mittens, brass-plated goggles, and insulated black boots lined with polar bear fur. Additionally, it features warmth-enhancing layers like a cream-hued synthetic sweater, bluish-purple thermal socks, brownish-black balaclava, woollen light grey scarf, and fallow brown earmuffs. Furthermore, the package encompasses shelter and sleeping essentials, comprising a four-season tent with snow stakes and guy lines, an insulated sleeping pad, and a bivy sack.

Desert gear consists of a sand-coloured poncho with Regular Army insignia, a Desert Combat Uniform (DCU) featuring a sandy beige, light brown, pale grey, and earthy red camouflage pattern, desert combat boots, sand-resistant khaki socks, and a terracotta-coloured ballistic face mask. Additionally, it features essential survival items like water purification tablets, broad-spectrum sunscreen with high SPF, and DEET-based insect repellent.

Marine Corps Scuba Gear

The gear consists of a coppery brass diving helmet infused with a rebreather system for extended underwater breathing, paired with navy blue flippers featuring rugged, rubberised spikes for enhanced propulsion and stability. The gear includes a flexible purplish-black wetsuit with the Regular Army insignia emblazoned on the back and two red-orange stripes running along each side. Additionally, it features dual oxygen tanks that provide a maximum depth rating of 2,200 feet (670.56 metres). Their arsenal consists of arc-dropping mines, a trident, and a rifle-like firearm equipped with a scope and a bayonet-esque harpoon attachment.

Jetpack Gear

The gear consists of a flight suit featuring a silver-grey, dark blue, and purplish-white camouflage pattern, accompanied by a high-visibility ivory-hued parachute bearing the Regular Army insignia. The suit is equipped with sleek, ergonomic oxygen masks with dual oxygen canisters that offer extended duration and automatic refill. Additionally, it features dark grey helmets with an integrated communication system and orange-tinted visors for enhanced visual clarity and glare protection. Their arsenal includes an advanced jetpack powered by a self-replenishing fuel source for extended flight duration, explosive canisters, and a rocket launcher capable of firing homing missiles.

Biker Gear

The gear consists of grip-enhancing ruddy blue gloves, navy blue biker helmets with red-tinted visors and the Regular Army insignia on the back, and a brass-hued leather jacket. They ride a variety of military-commissioned motorcycles, and their arsenal consists of a grenade gun, a missile pod, a machete, and a shotgun.

Disguise Kit

This gear is used by soldiers and covert agents to safely provide supplies and intelligence on the frontlines, while disguising themselves as completely different people.

Special Gear

The Regular Army possesses two advanced special gear developed by the Amadeus Syndicate: E-Armour and Devil’s Organic Latex Lattice (DOLL). The E-Armour is known for being somewhat heavy when worn, and the DOLL bodysuit is remarkably skin-tight. Despite being uncomfortable for most people, which limits their widespread use, there are a select few who have found them wearable.

E-Armour is a ceramic-plated bulletproof vest of pure adamant that’s designed to absorb and dissipate the intense kinetic energy of tank blasts. The vest's advanced, nano-tech infused Kevlar-inspired material provides flexibility and protection. Tactical pouches integrated into the vest's lower hem securely store ammunition for firearms. Strategically positioned, reinforced trauma plates—sculpted to mimic toned, muscular contours—fortify the chest and midsection, ensuring critical vital organs remain safeguarded.

The Regular Army insignia is emblazoned on the centre of the vest in a non-reflective, matte finish. Complementing the E-Armour vest are articulated lapis lazuli knee, elbow, and shoulder pads. Each features four strategically angled, tungsten-carbide spikes, which are designed to deflect shrapnel and incoming projectiles.

DOLL is a high-tech, stun-resistant, latex garment that bears a striking resemblance to the Doll bodysuit from Metal Slug Attack. It's combined with the vest of the E-Armour and reinforced with cutting-edge synthetic muscle tissues, allegedly derived from the Super Devil, which impart inhuman physical strength and durability to its wearer.

On its back, a humanoid-reptilian hybrid—believed to be the carcass of a Martian species donated by the Pipakhroz to the Regular Army—is fused to synthetic muscle tissues and latex. This hybrid has a skull melded to its chest, skin flaps on its head resembling those of a frilled-neck lizard, sharp clawed fingers, and sturdy legs similar to those of an iguana. The hybrid houses a dead heart that generates life-saving electrical pulses and an intestinal tendril that connects to the skull's mouth, resembling a breathing apparatus. When wearing the suit, the wearer's eyes have a red sheen, and their skin takes on either a green or purple tint. These effects gradually disappear once the suit is removed.

They're able to lift up to 120,000 kg with relative ease once their muscles expand and become semi-rigid. Their bodies are immune to bullets, punches, and normal blades, but their exposed heads are vulnerable. However, emotional stress and receiving too many powerful impacts without time to recover can tear the bodysuit and weaken the synthetic muscle tissues, rendering it useless.

To activate these tissues, the suit interfaces directly with the wearer's nervous system, making it accessible to only a select few. Compatibility is extremely rare, with only about one in a thousand candidates suitable for use. However, utilising the system comes with a significant trade-off: users experience intense hunger, requiring far more sustenance than a normal human. When the wearer falls unconscious or is near death, the suit automatically initiates emergency resuscitation protocols. Utilising electrical signals from the nervous system and its own internally generated pulses, the suit administers electric resuscitation to revive the wearer.

Vehicles

Combat

SV-000 (discontinued)

SV-001 Metal Slug

SV-001 Type-R

SVW-001 Slug Gunner

SVX-15D Slugnoid

Slug Trolley

Animal

SV-Camel

Elephant Slug

Ostrich Slug

Donkey Slug

Support

SVX-22UG Drill Slug

Protogunner (discontinued)

Slug Digger

Walking Machine

RA-TTT

TIAF600 Slug Mobile

Aerial

SVF-07V Slug Flyer

SVH-03 Slug Copter

Astro Slug

Golden Slug

Marine

SVX-17M Slug Mariner

Slug Sub (with Emergency Boat)

Borobune Slug

Middle-Son 1986

Middle-Son 1999

PA33-21 Boat

Large Scale

Augensterm

Slug Gigant

Repurposed Vehicles

Black Hound

Iron Nokana

Type-2 Di-Cokka

LV Armor

Landseek

M-15A Bradley

Hi-Do

Regular Army Base

The Joint Military Operations Headquarters, a heavily fortified military compound located in the Great Victoria Desert, serves as the primary base for the Regular Army. This heavily fortified facility is designed to withstand the harsh desert environment and potential threats, while providing a secure and self-sufficient hub for military operations. The compound's architecture is carefully crafted to blend seamlessly into its desert surroundings, minimising visibility from the outside. The facility features multiple blast-resistant windows designed to withstand extreme pressures and temperatures, ensuring enhanced security. Additionally, it’s equipped with six secure parabolic communications antennas for reliable connectivity with other military units and command centres.

The base has strict access protocols in place, featuring checkpoints and biometric scanning, to ensure that only authorised personnel can enter. Additionally, the base is equipped with water purification and recycling facilities to minimise dependence on external resources. Furthermore, it has a robust power generation infrastructure, including backup generators and renewable energy sources.

The compound features multiple facilities, including:

A robust, high-wall barrier that surrounds the compound, reinforced with watchtowers and guard posts to prevent unauthorised entry and protect against enemy attacks.

A Combat School that serves as a recruitment and training program for cadets aspiring to join the Regular Army.

A training ground for low-ranking soldiers to practice combat skills, tactics, and drills, honing their abilities in a controlled environment.

Advanced simulation rooms for immersive training exercises, allowing troops to prepare for various scenarios and environments.

Simple, functional living quarters for soldiers, providing basic amenities and housing.

A central dining facility offering standard military rations and meals.

A well-equipped medical facility for treating injuries and illnesses.

A secure storage facility for tactical gear, weapons, and vehicles with restricted access and inventory management.

A large garage serving as a maintenance facility for Slugs and other vehicles, including those repurposed from external sources.

A well-maintained storage area for food, fuel, ammunition, and other essential supplies.

Numerous offices accommodating military personnel, commanders, and support staff.

A strategic planning and operations management centre where military superiors oversee key activities, make tactical decisions, and coordinate missions.

A secure briefing room for classified discussions and situation assessments among high-ranking military officials and special forces operatives.

A dedicated facility for secure communication, including satellite uplinks and encrypted transmission systems.

A secretive, heavily restricted underground laboratory for conducting classified experiments on soldiers, developing cutting-edge technologies, and housing a mutant and supernatural entity containment facility.

Extra Information

Most high-ranking officers and special forces superiors embezzle funds intended for equipment and supplies, using them for personal enrichment.

New recruits and underperforming soldiers are often coerced into purchasing overpriced gear from corrupt quartermasters.

A few drill instructors are known to be particularly demanding towards cadets. Additionally, new recruits may experience hazing or verbal abuse from some Regular soldiers and special operatives, who may not fully trust them due to their lack of experience or unfamiliarity with unit dynamics.

There is a group commonly nicknamed the "misfit batch" where a small handful of cadets for the Regular Army and their special forces units are placed. These cadets usually possess some combat and survival experience, but struggle to form loyal bonds with others. They often come across as aggressive, cold, and arrogant towards fellow cadets, particularly those they dislike or distrust.

The Regular Army often favours its special forces units over the Regular soldiers who make up the bulk of its personnel. This preference can lead to tension between Regular soldiers and special operatives because they feel their contributions are overlooked and undervalued, believing that the special forces branches receive disproportionate attention and recognition from the Regular Army.

Special operatives receive more vacation days than Regular soldiers due to the high intensity of their work, the need to maintain operational security and avoid raising suspicions of mistreatment, and the value that’s placed on their specialised skills and knowledge. As a morale booster, the Regular Army often provides both special operatives and Regular soldiers with complimentary plane tickets to popular vacation destinations.

Highly skilled natural-born espers and special operatives, who have played crucial roles in pivotal world events and possess specialised expertise and intimate knowledge of enemy organisations like the Ptolemaic Army, often find retirement elusive. To the higher-ups, they are invaluable assets, making it difficult to let them go, even when retirement is overdue.

Members of the special forces branches within the Regular Army are subjected to extremely rigorous and coercive training regimes, which promote unconditional obedience and a willingness to engage enemy-affiliated individuals, regardless of innocence or hostile intent. Many special operatives and Regular soldiers accept this as a necessary aspect of their duty, unaware of the underlying psychological manipulation. However, a select few, including Walter, Fio, and Clark, secretly question the moral implications of such actions.

Special operatives serving the Regular Army are tasked with neutralising potential security threats, including journalists and other individuals who attempt to probe into their missions or the peacekeeping force's activities. This is done to maintain operational secrecy and prevent sensitive information from being disclosed.

Soldiers of the Regular Army are responsible for maintaining peace and are tasked with conducting infiltration missions. They serve a supportive role because the Earth Federation prefers to deploy specialised teams to infiltrate enemy fortifications, minimising civilian casualties and avoiding prolonged, all-out battles.

Soldiers of the Regular Army possess superior strategic and combat skills, boasting enhanced accuracy and greater agility compared to their Rebel Army counterparts.

Tank pilots are known for seizing the tanks of enemies after their own vehicle has been destroyed or rendered inoperable.

Many soldiers have undergone experimentation with psionic energy, granting them enhanced intellectual and physical capabilities. However, due to faulty bioengineering and a lack of understanding regarding the activation of Super Devil forms, they’re unable to metamorphose and have not received an esper title.

All soldiers and special operatives are required to undergo genetic modification, masquerading as a routine medical test to ensure they’re healthy and combat-ready. This modification not only enhances their endurance and physical strength but also grants them immunity to diseases. Remarkably, the genetic alterations enable them to withstand the extreme conditions of space, including intense pressure and temperature fluctuations, and even breathe in the vacuum of space without protective gear. The known side effects of these genetic alterations are limited to the following: increased susceptibility to weight gain, enhanced spatial awareness, and hormonal fluctuations that lead to heightened aggression and appetite. These effects vary in severity and impact, but are generally considered manageable.

[radioactive-metal]

Aurora Legion timeline

ok folks it’s

tonight’s serious post

On the docket tonight…. My completely nonsense timeline of the aurora legion. This is all pure conjecture and so is basically fanfic. Dates are all wrong but screw it im tired.

Year 22xx (I forgot lol): the aurora legion is founded, construction work begins on aurora academy phase 0. The legion’s equipment consists of deactivated Terran and Beretreskan stock, as Aurora labs is yet to be set up. Year designated AL:0

AL:2: first class graduates from AL temporary headquarters on Luna. Crews assigned to fend off pirate raids near trask and provide aid to a beleaguered Terran colony in the Sirius system. Aurora Academy Phase 0 50% complete.

AL:5: aurora academy phase 0 complete. Thrusters, power generation, life support finished. Phase 1 started.

AL:10: Aurora Labs begin operation. First piece of equipment produced is a new type of pistol, known as a disruptor, primarily designed to incapacitate, it becomes the standard sidearm of the legion. Phase 1 33% complete

AL:20: number of active squads reaches 100, flying missions around Terran and Beretreskan space. The first prototype Longbow MK.1 enters trials after being built at the Martian shipyards. Phase one 80% complete

AL:23: Phase one complete, legion HQ moves to the now habitable Aurora academy, and the first class is inducted. The stream system is introduced to improve squad efficiency. Construction begins on Aurora Yards in the asteroid belt of the Aurora system.

AL:30: Long Bows enter high rate production, with new ships rolling off the line on biweekly intervals. Phase two of the Aurora Academy begins

AL:55: Long Bow MK.2 enters testing at Aurora Yards. Fleet size reaches 200 active vessels, 180 Aurora Spec Longbow class, 7 Terran Indomitable class destroyers, 6 Beretreskan Kysshakk class frigates, 4 Terran Dreadnaught class light cruisers, and 1 Terran Battleship, the Indefatigable.

AL:63: also known as Black ‘63, this year marked the loss of Nari Kim and battleship Indefatigable at the hands of what was later identified as a Sydrathi Warbreed Hunter-killer fleet. 7 squads are lost in the line of duty after a supply run to a supposed refugee fleet that opened fire for unclear reasons. Kysshakk class frigates Clan-of-fury and Beetle-back engage and destroy. Later analysis showed it to be a pirate fleet in disguise. Phase 2 40% complete.

AL:70: Longbow MK.2 introduced, with better payload capacity, range, firepower, and resistance to the kind of sensor jamming that lead to Black ‘63. Phase 2 64% complete

AL:90: The last of the original founders dies. A memorial service is held and attended by 85% of personnel. Development begins on the Polearm class of frigates to replace the aging Indomitable and Kysshakk class vessels. Station AL-02 begins construction on border territories of Terra and Trask, to act as a forward operating base. Phase 2 completed. Original specs for Aurora academy met. Additional expansion plans, and development phases 3-7 are drawn up.

AL:107: Polearm MK.1 enters service. Active fleet reaches 400 vessels, primarily Long Bow MK.2s. A new flagship is acquired by the Legion, the former TDF Dauntless.

AL:120: first communication with the syldrathi. War declared between Terra and her allies and Syldra. AL remains neutral and offers aid to those caught in the crossfire. Heavy losses incurred. First large scale deployment of Polearms, who can stand toe to toe with sydrathi vessels 50% larger than themselves

AL:130: Completion of phases 3,4, and 5 (done concurrently) introduction of the Longbow MK.4, notable for its complete redesign of defensive plating, engines, and weapons to massive effect, and initial testing of Blockhouse class Carriers and their sister class Iron Cannon Cruisers. Active fleet reach’s 1000.

AL:138: the Battle of Orion. Huge losses among aurora legion forces, loss of last remaining Dreadnought class cruiser. 20th Blockhouse/Iron cannon class vessel enters service.

AL:150: Battle of Aurora, station heavily damaged by Rahaam fleet, 33% of active personnel lost. Gladius class picket ship introduced, designed to be manned by only 3 crew. Due to damage, phases 6 and 7 are started ahead of schedule, to be completed by AL:175. Battleship Dauntless lost along with Admiral Adams.

AL:157: Tyler Jones selected as new Admiral of the fleet, and orders a shifting of footing to a humanitarian stance.

might do a speculative future timeline as well. Might come back to this later and patch it up in really tired RN.