The Home Crew

Home of Omega Company, this Conestoga class troop transport steadily prowls through the stars.
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Kellser, M.R.
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Posts: 44
Joined: Jun 26, 2011, 9:51 PM
Rank: Corporal
Status: Healthy
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Injuries: No injuries
Weapons: Unarmed
Designation: Rifleman
Location: Rhode Island (formerly Mississippi)

Re: The Home Crew

Post by Kellser, M.R. » Jul 05, 2013, 1:05 PM

((OOC: It's been a long time, so if I'm doing this wrong please let me know.))

In the cryo-pod bay, a wall intercom came to life as a voice came through the line.

"This is Kellser, does anyone read me? Corporal Cohen, anyone, are you still there?"

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Radley, B. G.
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Posts: 186
Joined: Jun 27, 2011, 3:40 AM
Rank: Private First Class
Status: Healthy
Billet: 1st Section, 2nd Squad
Injuries: No injuries
Weapons: M56A2 Smartgun (3 Drums)
M4A3 Service Pistol (4 Mags)
Bowie Knife
Designation: Smartgunner
Location: New Orleans, LA

Re: The Home Crew

Post by Radley, B. G. » Jul 07, 2013, 11:29 PM

Radley had just finished strapping on his armor when the familiar sound of a smartgun rang loud. Heavy rounds slammed into the deck and bulkheads. The smartgunner jumped forward, hoping to reach a point where he couldn't be seen. Spikes jumped off of walls and lockers and put significant holes in nearly everything. When he reached safety, he scrambled onto a knee and raised his shotgun to his shoulder. "'ey, asshole! You gotta let off dah trigga if you gon' kill anybody!"
Front of Helmet, Sticker of the Louisiana Flag
Back of Armor in White Gothic Lettering, Commodum Habistus Es
Right Shin Guard in Black Sharpie, Your Ass Here with an arrow pointing downward
On Smartgun in White Chalk,
TAKE TWO OF THESE AND CALL ME IN THE MORNING

Cohen, J
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Cohen, J » Jul 08, 2013, 6:09 PM

GM

The ship's internal speaker system relayed Kellser's voice over the sounds of gunfire in the hold. Cohen appeared to be stunned, but gestured to Hoban through the cloud of stars that appeared to be circling above her head. Offering up her own shotgun, Cohen pointed in the direction of the incoming fire, clenching her fist as if to say "Fuck 'em up".

Smartguns, as effective as they were, were notorious for having finicky personalities, especially in the older generations. The staccato bursts of gunfire were suddenly halted, and panicked, frantic shouting filled the hold as the others began scraping around, looking for something in the darkness of the hold. This new movement caused the lights in the hold to spring on, allowing the Marines to spot their opponents. The Smartgunner was running towards the other end of the dropship, while the others were running towards the left of the bay, obviously running for the safety of their own ship. They hadn't expected the Marines to wake up and fight back, it seemed.
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Hoban, W.
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Hoban, W. » Jul 08, 2013, 11:48 PM

Hoban took the shotgun readily from Cohen, nodding to her gesture. There was really only one thing that it could mean. With his back pressed against their meager cover, he readied the shotgun and held his breath, waiting for a window of opportunity to open up, for the smartgunner to have to reload, anything.

"They don't pay us enough for this shit." Hoban muttered as he made his move during what seemed like a lull in the incoming fire. No sooner had he popped up from behind the crate than the assault seemed to end completely. He was clueless as to what intruders were up to, and had little time to ponder it. Panic? Had the gravity of the situation suddenly dawned on them? He didn't know, and he didn't care. Bracing himself against the crate, he took aim with the shotgun and fired at the retreating smartgunner.

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Radley, B. G.
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Posts: 186
Joined: Jun 27, 2011, 3:40 AM
Rank: Private First Class
Status: Healthy
Billet: 1st Section, 2nd Squad
Injuries: No injuries
Weapons: M56A2 Smartgun (3 Drums)
M4A3 Service Pistol (4 Mags)
Bowie Knife
Designation: Smartgunner
Location: New Orleans, LA

Re: The Home Crew

Post by Radley, B. G. » Jul 09, 2013, 9:22 AM

The poor sucker was left all alone and ran like he'd never held a smartgun before. A first timer, or an unprofessional. Maybe if he'd done some training and homework, he'd realize that the weapon he was holding was a hand-me-down from black arms dealers that didn't know how to keep their weapons together. He jumped up from his prone position and yelled, "Gimme yo' smartgun, asshole!"

Radley tracked the gunner with his UTS-15 and fired of three rounds of 12ga buck shot. The return fire boomed in the short ceilings of the wide armory.
Front of Helmet, Sticker of the Louisiana Flag
Back of Armor in White Gothic Lettering, Commodum Habistus Es
Right Shin Guard in Black Sharpie, Your Ass Here with an arrow pointing downward
On Smartgun in White Chalk,
TAKE TWO OF THESE AND CALL ME IN THE MORNING

Cohen, J
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Cohen, J » Jul 09, 2013, 10:31 AM

(OOC: I'm sorry, Radley, but that just made me snicker. I don't know why I found that dialogue so funny)

GM

Between the combined fire of Radley and Hoban, OPFOR's Smartgunner never stood a chance. Though conventional full body armor would shrug off shot shells, it certainly wouldn't stop the slug that Hoban fired, nor the multiple impacts of Radley's shotgun. And since the Smartgunner armor was less protective (and thus, less restrictive, allowing gunners a higher range of motion) than standard M3 body armor, the LMG's operator was quickly dispatched with frighteningly efficiency. Blood sprayed high as one of Radley's pellets ripped open the femoral artery, with Hoban's slug punching straight through the chickenplate chest rig and slamming the operator into the deck. The other two opened fire, light submachinegun rounds bouncing off the deck and the dropship as the two retreating OPFOR sprayed wildly with their weapons.

Panicked shouting from the other side of the Hangar indicated that another fireteam was closing in on the Marines. The first man rounded the corner with what looked like a Harrington automatic rifle, the precursor to the M41A. Squeezing off something from the undermounted grenade launcher, an explosion at the aft end of the Armory nearly knocked the Marines off of their feet. Their ears ringing, the Marines looked up to see the UPP Personnel retreating, with warning klaxons in the Hangar alerting the Marines to a fire in the Armory. Their OPFOR had fired some kind of incendiary round into the Armory; though the ammuntion was shielded and thus in no danger of cooking off, the presence of a fire, period, was distressing aboard a ship. Automated doors slammed shut, sealing the Armory off as the ship pulled atmosphere from that section of the ship.

The sounds of retreating OPFOR clanged down the other end of the Armory, heading towards what sounded like an umbilical. Cohen sat herself upright and waved the Marines forward, trying to signal them to pursue their enemies.
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Redds, J. H.
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Redds, J. H. » Jul 15, 2013, 4:08 AM

(OOC: asljkf sorry i'm late)

The Zombie was the last into the armory, lagging behind, still catching his breath. Before he came back he’d been told about what cryo would do to him, given a stern lecture about never touching a cigarette again, all that shit, but hell, he didn’t think it’d be this bad. He gravitated towards the familiar locker, and... caught himself. He’d been clocked out and back in since then, and they’d cleaned out his locker and stuck anything that wasn’t Corps in a ziplock bag. His old locker read Louis Hyler on the panel, now, and there was graffiti already drawn on it, a teacup wearing a crown — English exchange student, maybe. Hell, Lockwood had been a Brit, hadn’t he?

Fucking hell. That just reminded him of squadmates who’d been wounded, killed or transferred, or NCOs and officers who’d never come out of cryo. Fucking hell.

He had to spend a minute or two, running down the rows, before he found his new locker — and was confronted by a brand-new set of armor that smelled like new plastic. Shit, that smell brought back memories... he’d called Archer “sir”, twice in a row. Niles... he'd packed ammo with Niles, and then watched him charge a machinegun nest. Wickham diving into a trench next to Joe, covered in mud, Lockwood and his goddamn beret... his old armor was a puddle of slag in a bug tunnel.



Get a fuckin’ grip, Joe.

Redds got a fuckin’ grip. Took the last shotgun, loaded it, filled his webbing with spare shells and headed out into the hangar, just in time to hear the shriek of a smartgun and see Cohen go down. Hoban was already getting her out of the way and Redds just got his ass behind cover and parked it there until the smartgun miraculously jammed, and the hangar lights came up; he took potshots at the retreating boarding party but the buckshot was hardly adequate at that range.

“Cohen! You good?!” he bellowed, over the screaming fire alarm — but she was already up. Hoban was still with her. He raised his voice again. “Boo! Coverin’ fahr, cover mah ass!”

The last words were delivered at a run; the short Marine was already headed down the left side of the hangar, dodging from cover to cover with the shotgun raised ahead of him like a lance.
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Hoban, W.
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Hoban, W. » Jul 16, 2013, 1:21 AM

Hoban tried to help Cohen up to her feet, temporarily ignoring the signal to pursue. Redds had caught up and had Radley, and the enemy was running for their lives pissing themselves in terror. He could afford to spare a moment.

"C'mon, up and at em. We need you to tell us who to frag and who to fuck."

He tried to get his left arm around her, his right staying on the shotgun. He wouldn't be firing at the rate he had when he and Radley dropped that smartgunner, but he could sling one off at anything that got in close range, and then drop it for his sidearm without having to abandon Cohen to whatever fate was in store for marines that got left behind in these clusterfucks. It wasn't like they were on some strange and fucked up backwater where jellyfish bounced on up out of the puddles to fuck you in your mouth if you were alone, this was THEIR ship, after all. But Hoban was having the 13th bad feeling about this one, and that one was usually when things were getting serious.

Cohen, J
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Joined: Jul 16, 2011, 11:40 AM
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Re: The Home Crew

Post by Cohen, J » Jul 17, 2013, 9:56 AM

(OOC: Oh, Redds, I see what you did there. Really wish Reid, Lockwood, Cov, Stokes, et all were still around too.)

GM

Redds was yelling something, Hoban was saying something, nothing made much sense. Managing a rough grunt, the sound of boots on the deck signaled a charge; Redds was charging across the deck. OPFOR was retreating, but that didn't mean that the Marines couldn't pursue. Shaking off the worst of the injury (what felt like a cracked rib or two) for the moment, she knew movement would be tough, but managable if she went slowly.

"I'm good, Hoban. Hang onto that for me, would you?" she asked, drawing her own handgun and waving the others forward. Hopefully the unknown OPFOR wouldn't have backup; from the sounds of things, they weren't very high in number.

As the Marines moved up to the edge of the hangar, they could see that the airlock's indicator lights were still on. An umbilical was attached to the outside of the hangar airlock, connecting another larger ship to the Omaha. The airlock doors were open, and OPFOR was scrambling down the long connecting tube to what looked like another large ship. If the assembled Marines didn't know any better, they could swear that the ship was another Conestoga-class vessel.
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Radley, B. G.
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Posts: 186
Joined: Jun 27, 2011, 3:40 AM
Rank: Private First Class
Status: Healthy
Billet: 1st Section, 2nd Squad
Injuries: No injuries
Weapons: M56A2 Smartgun (3 Drums)
M4A3 Service Pistol (4 Mags)
Bowie Knife
Designation: Smartgunner
Location: New Orleans, LA

Re: The Home Crew

Post by Radley, B. G. » Jul 18, 2013, 9:41 PM

"Boo! Coverin’ fahr, cover mah ass!"

"Undah'stood! Coverin' Redds!" Radley rushed up to the wide door of the armory and covered Redds as he rushed left. His friend dived head-first into the hangar, rushing from crate to crate, vehicle to vehicle toward where the enemy smartgunner died. There weren't any hostiles that Radley could see. In fact, the last of the boarders rushed across an umbilical, disappearing from view. The Marines chased them off just by waking.

Cohen motioned forward.

"Movin'!" Radley did as she commanded and pressed his UTS-15 to his shoulder. "I'mma get dat smartgun!" the gunner announced and kept his shotgun trained on the umbilical cord.
Front of Helmet, Sticker of the Louisiana Flag
Back of Armor in White Gothic Lettering, Commodum Habistus Es
Right Shin Guard in Black Sharpie, Your Ass Here with an arrow pointing downward
On Smartgun in White Chalk,
TAKE TWO OF THESE AND CALL ME IN THE MORNING

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