<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/736x/d9/98/1e/d9981e79a951efe0acb3b4d05f1a5ac1.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Jena Hargreave<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Big Sky<br/><strong>Action:</strong>Flyin' and flexin'<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><br/><br/>Clomping aboard the troopship in her Kevalr and cowboy boots, Jena headed right for the gun rack. A dozen M16-A4s were latched there; she took one down, tested its weight and balance. Pretty close to her own AR-15 (being, basically, the same gun), but, like they say in all those movies, 'There are many like it, but this one ain't mine.'  It just felt off. Still. It'd put holes in whatever she pointed it at, so she checked that the selector was on B, the safety was on, and that there was a round in the chamber, slung it on her back, and forgot about it. 'In case of Emergency', and etc.<br/><br/>Rifles weren't as  much fun anyway- not even a sniper got to see that precious 'Oh SHIT!' expression, right before you popped their heads with a .50 hollowpoint, or tore 'em in half with a pumpkin ball that weighed more than their liver. If Bugs had livers. She didn't know, didn't care.  She'd be relying mostly on the Ithaca and the Eagle this run, regardless.<br/><br/>Next was grenades, and that took some thought. She didn't have much of a throwing arm- long on distance, pretty sad on landing stuff where she wanted it. And while 'close' counted in hand grenades, was best if you could get them<em>somewhere</em>near where you were aiming. Flashbangs were right out, for her- too position-sensitive. Frags, maybe the same- just be a waste, her tossin' them around like lost golf balls.<br/><br/>Smoke, now. Smoke didn't care where you put it, so long as it was between you an' them.  And made them look even more surprised when you popped up outa it. So two white-tabbed smoke canisters went on her web belt.  She'd been hoping for some white phosphor- a bangbuddy had liberated a couple of those from a Guard armory for the Fourth, and oh my stars did they make a light and a stink. They'd stink even better with a cluster of big goggle-eyed grey fuckers in the middle of it, but wasn't no point in dreamin' on it, since there weren't any.<br/><br/>Another moment's consideration, and she grabbed a frag, hung it just<em>so</em>, the pin trapped. That one wasn't for throwin'. That was for her, just in case. She wasn't playin' another round of 'hide the probe' with the Bugs, if she had any breath left to stop it.<br/><br/>Moving out of the way of the others, she racked a round up into the car-killing shotgun's breach with a noise like a falling tree.  "Yeeee-HAW, ladies!  First rodeo! And remember, first rule is: you fall off the bull, you roll your ass outa the way so you don't get stepped on."<br/><br/>Plopping into a bench, ignoring the safety straps, she laid her head back and gave every impression of going to sleep.