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Re: The Home Crew

Posted: Jun 23, 2013, 12:31 PM
by Thomas, G.
"Well, ok then. Hoban, you're one of the more important folks on this team. Don't want to put you up front. Thomas, Redds, take whichever suits your fancy. Thomas, you'll be on point. They said they need backup soon-ish, so expect anything" Cohen stated quickly, her tone strong and decisive. Greg nodded and grabbed the Beretta, the weight of the weapon sending a nerve-numbing sensation up his right arm. It felt like centuries since he last held a weapon, and he was a little concerned that he received so much pleasure from finally doing it again. He followed suit with the rest of the Marines as they filed towards the elevator at the back of the room. He was the last to enter the door, and it quickly slid shut in front of him as Cohen pressed the appropriate number for the Armory. Silence only for a second and then the elevator jolted slightly as it began it's descent. Greg noticed the weapon still had it's safety on, and didn't have any rounds chambered. Once the elevator door opened, he was in the front, so he wouldn't do a damn bit of good trying to fight without a weapon that would fire. After all, pistols made shitty boomerangs. He could sense that the elevator was closing in on the armory level, so his finger flicked the safety off, and he chambered a round. The movement stopped, and the doors slid open as Thomas slowly entered the room. It was dark and eerily quiet, and even though Thomas knew they had received the signal that it was secured, he just couldn't help it. He was paranoid.

He made his way over to his personal locker and opened it. It was just as he had left it, his armor and helmet, as well as personal belongings all kept neatly inside. It was a sight that made him smile, and he slowly took a picture of his mother out and placed it in his pocket. He always kept a bottle of water in his locker, because you never knew when something like that would come in handy. It was about 3/4's of the way full, more than enough for him to take a swig as well as anyone else who may be thirsty. He popped the cap off and took a gulp of water, the cool liquid soothing his dry mouth, and the plastic popping and snapping under his grip. He had always loved that sound. ”Does anyone else want some?” he said as a couple of Marines looked in his direction. He placed the bottle on the bench, readily available for anyone to get some if they desired. He began to make his way over to the weapon and ammunition rack when something instantly caught his eye. The power was out, and none of the indicators were on, which posed a small problem to say the least. ”Hoban! You got your hacking tool? We can get the ammo open at least.” Cohen said, motioning towards the commtech. Whatever needed to be done, had to be done quickly, because they hadn't heard from Kellser or the synth yet, and they definitely weren't alone on this ship.

Re: The Home Crew

Posted: Jun 23, 2013, 11:47 PM
by Hoban, W.
Hoban whistled after a brief moment of suspense, where he was almost certain the doors would open to an armory packed with pirates. With relief he stepped out into the armory to collect his things, his heart still pounding, still a little nervous that he'd perhaps hear the beeping of a sentry gun coming to life shortly before mowing down everybody moving, or the click of some explosive or other being triggered. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and listened to the chatter between the others as he got himself up to speed.

"Hoban! You got your hacking tool? We can get the ammo open at least." Cohen called to him, shortly after learning that the pulse rifles were all discharged.

"You betcha." He said as he opened up the device and keyed it on, kneeling by one of the ammunition racks and patching into it with the tool to start the process. He hesitated briefly, looking around the armory. For some reason, this all just felt...too lucky to him. Even with discharged batteries, they were having a fairly easy time, in his opinion. Maybe Kellser and the tinman were giving the intruders a lot of trouble. It wasn't too far-fetched to think that the invading party wasn't prepared for them, who's bright idea would it have been to board a USCM vessel, anyway? But they weren't so incompetent that they couldn't commandeer the computers, so Hoban couldn't shake the bad feeling he was getting.

He finished up with the hacking tool, keying in the commands necessary to unlock everything now that it seemed he had gotten in, and closed up the panel on the ammunition rack, standing up and brushing himself off.

"Easier than tetris." He slapped the side of the ammo-rack, expecting it to open any second once the commands chugged through.

Re: The Home Crew

Posted: Jun 24, 2013, 9:20 AM
by Cohen, J
GM

Hoban was a fast worker, that was for sure. The system lagged for exactly one second before the ammo rack doors popped open, revealing a plethora of ammunition.

"Fine work as usual, PFC." Jenna grinned, gravitating towards the shotgun shells. Seven shotgun shells slid easily into the Remington's chamber, and Jenna just put the rest of the box in a magazine pouch. The various M4A3 sidearms and the occasional shotgun would be more than enough to see the Marines through a boarding action, or so she hoped.

"Try not to take grenades if at all possible. Obviously we don't wanna blow a hole in our hull"

Thankfully, it seemed like the motion trackers were fully charged...

Re: The Home Crew

Posted: Jun 26, 2013, 8:49 AM
by Radley, B. G.
"Fine work as usual, PFC," Cohen proclaimed. Then to the rest of them: "Try not to take grenades if at all possible. Obviously we don't wanna blow a hole in our hull."

Radley marched back over to where the rest of the Marines were, restowing his M56A2 back into its rack.

"Well, dat's no fun," Radley replied. "Thought I might wanna take one d'em tourist space walks MWR a'ways tells us 'bout."

He took two boxes of shotgun shells and several magazines of M4A3 ammunition and put them into his trousers cargo pockets and left in search of both weapons that used those munition types.

Re: The Home Crew

Posted: Jun 26, 2013, 4:14 PM
by Hoban, W.
Hoban grabbed himself a motion tracker and M4A3, making sure to load the weapon. He made sure to grab additional ammo, for both the M4A3 and shotguns. It wasn't likely that anybody would run out, they weren't in the long-haul, here. Still, it didn't hurt to be prepared.

"Where to now?"

Re: The Home Crew

Posted: Jun 27, 2013, 9:17 AM
by Cohen, J
GM

There were exactly 3 shotguns and a medley of sidearms in the bay, not including Jenna's own shotgun. Shotguns really weren't kept in large numbers aboard Colonial Marine ships, but they would be excellent in the tight quarters of the ship. No need to worry about damaging the ship's hull, and a shotgun slug was deadly up close.

The ship's communications console lit up again, and Hoban, who was closer, quickly checked the screen. Kellser and the synth were up ahead in the drop bay, having repelled an enemy force.

"Alright, people, let's move like we've got a purpose" Jenna breathed. Something didn't feel right.

Opening the door to the Hangar bay, Jenna quickly caught notice of two flashlights at the back of the hangar bay. The lights vanished immediately when the door opened, however, and the Hangar was once again plunged into darkness.

Re: The Home Crew

Posted: Jun 29, 2013, 11:13 AM
by Radley, B. G.
Radley grabbed one of the shotguns. It was a UTS-15, a shotgun of ancient design but still used because of it simplicity and capability for firepower. Fourteen rounds down two seven-round magazine tubes above the barrel. The Cajun racked all 14 with 12-gauge buckshot and threw one more into the barrel. Second, he grabbed a M4A3 sidearm and loaded it with another magazine from the ammunition bin.

"Best get's tah steppin', folks! I don' think dat boa'din' pa'ty's gonna wait on us!"

Treasure captured, he rushed to their armor lockers and suited up. He armored up in his smartgunner's rig, a sparsely armored torso rig that was meant to support the articulating arm of the M56A2 Smartgun. It made him feel safe, the familiar grip on his large body. Radley locked his shins and boots in the standard-issue Marine-camo shinguards and put on his trusty helmet modified to accept his smartgun's tracking headgear.

Re: The Home Crew

Posted: Jul 01, 2013, 11:35 AM
by Thomas, G.
The ammo racked chirped a quick beep and then the automated mechanism slapped open quickly, revealing all of the ammunition they could possibly need. Greg filed in line, taking three extra mags for the 9mm pistol that he was carrying. He went back to his locker, re-opening it so he could grab his helmet, ammo belt and chest plate, snapping them all on. He was expecting combat, and the last he wanted was to be caught without any protection, even though most munitions could punch a hole right through the plating. He slid the magazines into his ammo pouch and holstered his sidearm, noticing that a shotgun was available for use. A much more powerful weapon, and he would much rather have that available to do some serious damage at close range. His hands wrapped around the barrel of the weapon, gripping it tightly. It felt great to wield, and he was beginning to feel a little sorry for anyone on board right now.

“Alright people, let's move like we've got a purpose” snapped Cohen, and they fell in line behind her. The hangar bay was right up ahead, Thomas knew. He pumped a slug into the chamber, and followed suit as the hangar door opened slowly, revealing two lights near the back that quickly shut off as the door hissed quietly, opening fully. His heart rate had increased, and his eyes were fixed straight ahead, the only thing illuminating the room were the red guiding lights on the floor. His movements were slow and steady as they began to enter the bay.

Re: The Home Crew

Posted: Jul 02, 2013, 9:34 PM
by Cohen, J
GM

The Hangar was deadly silent, with no visible movement in the back of the hangar. As Hoban brought the motion tracker up to bear, a single beep was all that betrayed what was about to happen.

"увидели врага!" a voice yelled at the back of the hangar as what sounded like a Smartgun opened up on full auto. The blinding muzzle flash stunned the Marines momentarily as the rounds whizzed past Thomas' head. Cover, in the form of dropship munition racks, the dropship itself, and several crates were scattered around the Marines. The motion tracker showed around six other blips, which obviously signified the presence of six different enemies.

Cohen hit the deck hard, stunned, with the world spinning as something warm trickled down her forehead. Breath wasn't coming easily, and glancing down at her body armor, she could feel the indentations where the rounds had hit home. Thermal dampeners and the layered armor had protected her, at the cost of what felt like a few cracked ribs.

Re: The Home Crew

Posted: Jul 04, 2013, 8:33 AM
by Hoban, W.
Hoban kept one hand on his motion tracker and the other on his m4a3 tactical pistol. His eyes stayed on the motion tracker as they moved forward into the seemingly safe hangar. The constant, soft blipping of the motion tracker was interrupted by a harsh 'PING' and before Hoban could open his mouth to inform Cohen, who was just a few feet ahead of him, that they had movement, the entire chamber echoed with the furious roaring of what may have been a minigun. Or worse, a smartgun.

Hoban was slow to respond, his attention having been more on the motion tracker and less on the surroundings, and what possible cover there would have been for him to jump to at a moment's notice. A grave mistake, on his part, and what that may have cost him his life on another day. Today, however, Cohen was between him and the bad guys. Though he didn't realize it right away, she took a few rounds in the armor before hitting the deck, and it hadn't even occurred to the comm-tech that she had been hit or wounded in any way until he had used the split-second her body armor bought him to throw himself down behind a crate just beside her.

Dropping the motion tracker, knowing from experience that they were durable little things, Hoban tried to drag Cohen into better cover.

"IT'S GONNA BE ONE OF THOSE FUCKIN' DAYS." He shouted over the gunfire.