The Fate of Kilo Platoon
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Urbanzorro on 18-05-2010, 05:48:40</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>18-05-2010, 05:48:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				LV-1875 a minor colony on the edge of charted space, financed by Weyland-Yutani&nbsp; for years it has been both productive and peaceful, a model ‘shake and bake’ colony, it has also been a secret home for a Weyland-Yutani research facility (http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs41/f/2009/052/f/0/outpost_by_jamga.jpg). Having only achieved breathable atmosphere two years earlier, at last contact LV-1875’s Governor boasted of the highest productivity levels to date, then all contact was lost. The colony of “Jackie’s Hope (http://aliens.humlak.cz/aliens/aliens_papirove_modely/aliens_models/lv426/vehicles/lv426-tractor02.jpg),” the only human settlement on the planet seemed to simply fall off the grid. After a week of non-responsiveness the USMC was notified. A platoon was sent to investigate what exactly happened. This is their story. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>18-05-2010, 21:25:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the USS Mitchum approaches LV-1875 its dormant systems slowly come online, first the life support, then the lights, several minutes later the cryo tube rooms come online, slowly defrosting the sleeping marines. After a few minutes the tubes open up. FATHER has completed the resuscitation procedures and every marine’s bio-signs are reading at 100 percent. Kilo platoon has survived their journey through space and now there is only a day’s worth of travel before they reach LV-1875.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>18-05-2010, 22:04:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_01.jpg)<br><br>SYNTHETIC HITAGI "SENJO" SENJOGAHARA. MEGATECH CHASSIS #23711-H/F-34. CPU LAWS-ANDREWS TYPE 17C #2112<br><br>While women dream dreams and men have fantasies, sometimes awake, often in their sleep, I experience neither. There is no place in me for either dreams or fantasies. There is no place for fear, for hope, for anger, for pity, for remorse. For love. The spaces within me are full and always busy. Calculations fill them. While men may calculate, they have a heart that affects what their brain can choose. They are limited.<br><br>I am all brain. Brain and brawn. I have a body that is modelled on that of a human female. I do not know why this decision was taken and the verbal interactions with those around me, while I understand their meaning and nuance, do not affect me. I store them away. They become data. If my having this shape affects how men and women perceive me, that is an issue for them to deal with, though their attitude, unlike mine, will always be affected by that other pumping organ in their chests.<br><br>*&nbsp; *&nbsp; *<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_02.jpg)<br><br><em>Power on. Pre boot cycle. Boot. Run up. System check. Checking... checking... Fail safes off. Check finalised. Main power cycle. Power up. 70-83-98-100 percent.<br><br>Systems nominal.<br><br>Online.</em><br><br>*&nbsp; *&nbsp; *<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_03.jpg)<br><br>I opened my eyes. No blurry sleep clogged them. Lifting a limb I reached up over my head to the cryobed's keypad and shut off it's power. The plastic dome was already raised, the chamber in which it was installed brightly lit. None of the others were yet moving. I sat up, pushed aside the coverall and lifted my legs out sideways to sit and then stand.<br><br>The soles of my feet indicated a temperature in the steel floor of twenty one point oh three degrees Celcius. While movement around me indicated the platoon was stirring from cryo-slumber and beginning to talk in exaggerated humorous tones of inconsequential subjects and make their way to the showers, I did not.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_04.jpg)<br><br>Unless external matter renders my surface dirty or damaged I do not need to wash. Naked I took the five paces to my assigned locker and from it pulled on a white short sleeved crop vest and a pair of faded sawnoff stonewash jean shorts. My feet remained bare. A pair of Ray-Bans were added, useful against the glare of the strong mess deck lighting.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo-14.jpg)<br><br>I turned back to my cryobed and checked it was secure. The system had auto-closed the cover. I made my way from the troop quarters to the mess deck. I did not go there for food, at least not as a priority. I had another task first. A linked terminal to the navigation and hull systems computer was installed here. Without sitting at the desk I bent over the terminal and logged in.<br><br>Data. Data was my sustenance. I began to assimilate it. Examine it. Dismantle it. Reassemble it. Evaluate it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>18-05-2010, 22:05:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As was often the case, O'Shay was the first up.&nbsp; He slipped out of the pod as soon as it gave him enough room.&nbsp; He yawned and rubbed his eyes for a few seconds before getting right to it.&nbsp; It was his job to "crack the whip" upon waking up and he wasted no time.&nbsp; "Rise n' shine, sleeping beauties! It's another wonderful day in the Corp! Come on! Move it! There ain't no breakfast in bed here!" He walked back and forth between the pods rapping on their surface.&nbsp; He did not go near the Platoon Commander's or the Synth's pods.&nbsp; Protocol stated they were responsible for themselves.&nbsp; "Gizmo! Move your scrawny ass! Zippo! Quit your dreaming! Come on, Reaper! Get a move on! Clean and cover your ugly asses! Check your gear! Breakfast in 20! MOVE IT! OOH-RAH!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>18-05-2010, 23:04:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>Cryo travel is the worst, more so when you learn just exactly what it does to the body. Every time I lay down in that damn pod I only hope that the ship goes down to prevent me from going through the awakening process. I was awake the moment the dull sounds of the machine came online, my body still half way smothered in the blue freezing gel. Before the doors to my pod opened I heard Sarge's orders to the rest of the unit.<br><em>That man is going to make a good platoon leader one day, either over my dead body or after I send his recommendation for promotion...</em><br>I hoped for the latter in that scenario, my thoughts were quickly interrupted by the seal of the air-locks releasing which soon rewarded me that blinding bright lights overhead. I shut my eyes as I sat up coughing, reuniting air with my lungs. Finally alert enough to stand I walk nude straight towards the nearest wash room to clean up, emerging a few moments later in&nbsp; my normal fatigue pants, black t-shirt and boots. <br><br>Since sarge seemed on top of his game I simply nodded at him and anyone awake before I made my way down towards the mess hall for a little social rehabilitation. I knew that I would be summoned soon enough, given my orders once again and our mission but that could wait. Whatever comforts the ship could give now had to be enjoyed before dropping down to find out exactly what was going down on LV-1875. Unlike some of my fellow PL's I sat with my unit but was surprised to be the first in attendance except for Senjo who was off doing her own thing as usual. Her existence alone sometimes worried me about the way our species was heading but I knew she was a valuable tool to have around. Clearing my mind for a moment I got up and headed off to get in line for some chow, all that travel had left me hungry. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 00:12:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Lance Corporal Jennifer Mitchell hated cryosleep, she hated it even more then firewatch on liberty. Every time she had a good dream, she woke up destined to drop into some mud-stained shit hole that God had forgotten and the Corps was destined to conquer. She breathed a deep, long breath of her first fresh air in a while and sat up slowly, looking around through squinted eyes to get that fucking buzzing out of her ears from the air cyclers firing up. Her body chilled with the first contact she made with the floor, her toes involuntarily curled and she stood up, shaking it off like usual. Everything was as usual, just another day in the Corps. The damp, foggy haze that filled her mind, left over from her cryosleep, began to dissipate, and she realized how actually refreshed she felt. It wasn't unusual, but a welcome feeling for her, she slept like a log whenever the opportunity presented itself.<br><br>The cold floor did not stop her as she moved towards her locker, shaking her feet away from the cold floor, and as her eyes finally opened, she yanked open her locker and swiftly dressed into her skivvies. Jennifer let out a quiet yawn, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms then her legs, the sweet attraction of chow becoming less and less resistable as her stomach threatened the growl. She put on her boots and trousers, closing her locker and walking out towards mess. The ship itself was nothing new, though she did take in the sights.<br><br>Warmth was finally a sensation, not a dream, as Jennifer strolled into the mess deck, glancing around the rather empty room, she noted her CO and the synthetic were already here, and she left them to their devices or otherwise. The chow line was particularly appealing, neither good nor bad, among the many things the Corps did well it was make one want to eat the worst food in the universe.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 01:18:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>The pervading blackness of cryosleep slowly ebbed, transforming from black to dark red to ever increasing brighter shades of red and finally to soft whites. Slowly, Lance Corporal Roman Beneke became aware of a muted voice which gradually became several voices. His eyes opened with a start at the sudden pop and hiss of the cryogenic tube seal breaking loose followed by the mixture of gases rushing from the cryotube. He breathed in deeply, his first full breath in months. His lungs ached with a stabbing pain and he coughed in protest, quickly rising to a sitting position. Rome’s muscles were stiff and sore from months of inactivity. Wisps of fog spilled out of the tube as he squinted against the harsh, bright lights in the room, amplified by the antiseptic white walls, ceiling and floor. As he slowly turned to let his legs hang off of the side of the tube, he winced as his eardrums were assaulted by a man yelling in close proximity.<br><br><strong> “Get a move on! Clean and cover your ugly asses! Check your gear! Breakfast in 20! MOVE IT! OOH-RAH!"</strong> <br><br>After a minute of sitting on the side of the cryogenic bed, his head began to clear and he was able to recall where he was and what was going on, at least as much as he had been told, which wasn’t much. All he knew is that Kilo Platoon had been ordered to board the USS Mitchum, enter cryosleep, and go to some God-forsaken mudhole in space called LV-1875. And that man yelling so close to his ears was the Sarge.<br><br>Rome had been with 1st squad, Kilo Platoon, 5th Regiment for about 18 months now and he liked it better than any of his previous assignments. He liked the LT and Sarge well enough. They both seemed capable marines and he trusted their leadership in a tough spot. His squad mates were equally as capable at their jobs and, though it took some time, they eventually earned his respect, even Zippo, the 19 year old pyromaniac girly-girl.<br><br><strong>{EDITED}</strong><br>Gizmo was relatively new to the squad. He didn't really fit in with the rest of the squad in Rome's opinion because he wasn't tough, fearless or eerily disturbed in some way like the rest of the squad seemed to be. He was a thinker, not a fighter and Rome gave him a hard time because it. Gizmo did have his usefulness, though. He was really smart and tech savvy and he could make things work that had otherwise been nonfunctional, though Senjo could do that as well. Still, despite Gizmo's shortcomings as a Marine, Rome had decided he'd give him a chance. After all, there had been times in the few missions they'd run in the past where Gizmo's technical know-how had saved all of their sorry asses.<br><br>As for Senjo, Rome was still unsure of … “her.” Although she was an android and not a Marine, Senjo had proven an invaluable asset to the squad, that was indisputable. What confused Rome was whether he should think of her as another member of the team or as simply as another tool or weapon like his motion tracker or M56 smartgun. He knew she was an artificial life form, but she was also really nice eye candy for him to rationalize simply viewing her as another tool or weapon. Regardless, Senjo was an integral asset to the team and he felt better “equipped” having her around when things got hairy.<br><br>Rome shook his head and regained his focus. He slipped off of the cryogenic bed, his bare feet coming into contact with the cold, metal floor and sending a shiver of goose bumps across his dark, naked flesh. He stretched his arms, still feeling a bit stiff and decided they needed a bit of exercise to get the blood pumping. Ignoring the aching, gnawing in his stomach, Rome walked towards the lockers, jumped up to grab a chin-up bar in a nearby doorway and proceeded to do execute chin-ups. <strong>“ONE! Ooh-Rah! TWO! Ooh-Rah! …"</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 01:44:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The first task was to run a routine status check of the integrity of the ship to ensure nothing had struck the hull during crew cryosleep. If something serious had occurred the alarms would have awoken the troops, something very serious and none of us would know anything about it. Anything that had not killed us or woken us would be either a minor incident or a more moderate one but within a non-critical space.<br><br>All was nominal. The starboard bow docking thrusters showed a misaligned ventral exhaust. The data indicated a high velocity strike from a small object. The most common causes of such strikes were dust particles. There was no outboard camera that bore on that piece of equipment and it was too minor to don a suit and manually examine it. The data indicated it was not serious. I logged it with the time, my ID and a one line diagnosis.<br><br>I next ran a navigation check, interrogating the charts against our current position, ships time against solar time and our orbit. All were nominal.<br><br>The third task I had selected in my priority sequence was to initiate a full suite of surface scans of LV-1875 to check for life, damage to structures or surface features and any recorded transmissions, including heat blooms from any non-standard source such as the power plant, air scrubbers or mine vents. Examining the planetary chart showed that the colony was well above the plane of the ecliptic, declination 123 degrees, sufficient for a full sweep. I initiated holographic 3D scans via passive low intensity lasers, infra red and ultra violet. I commenced a radiation check. It was a primary consideration that the nuclear reactors of the colony were intact and operational.<br><br>As I worked I was aware of the marines entering the mess hall in ones and twos. I looked up to greet each with a small nod but for the time being I kept at my tasks.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_05.jpg)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 03:43:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				FATHER’s voice could be heard through the speakers “Officer’s briefing will be in 5 minutes” his voice was calm and firm as always. The USMC had chosen it from several voices for both its authoritarian and ‘calming’ tones. <br><br><br>The readouts from the scans Senjo displayed that the colony itself seemed to be in working order, but they also displayed an unrecorded building several miles to the east of the colony, in addition to this no signs of human friendly or hostile activity showed up. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 08:19:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay<br><br>O'Shay nodded back to the Lieutenant as he walked past.&nbsp; "Sir." He had served with him for 2 years now and they had developed a good working relationship.&nbsp; Taking after his namesake, "Caesar" focused on the big picture of the mission while he filled in the details.&nbsp; Despite being an officer's son, he had gone through the suck in boot camp.&nbsp; He had to respect him for that alone, but it also gave him a common touch too many officers lack.&nbsp; <br><br>He nodded to Senjo as she walked past, as she gave him an unintentional eyeful.&nbsp; Her actual name was longer, but he could never remember it.&nbsp; He wasn't sure what bothered him the most about her: that she was a synth, that she was so distant, that she was non-USMC personnel, or that she was so damn easy on the eyes in spite of being a synth.&nbsp; Her intelligence, programmed or not, intrigued and chilled him.&nbsp; &nbsp;Though distant, her demeanor still could be mistaken for human.&nbsp; Regardless of all that, as the only non-Marine female on this trip, it was difficult not to ogle her a bit.&nbsp; She was a mystery.&nbsp; Still, he had a demeanor to keep up.&nbsp; <br><br>Roman, shortened to Rome, was already doing pull-ups.&nbsp; "That's it, leatherneck! That's what I want to see! Dedication!"&nbsp; &nbsp;He hadn't liked that at first, but his secrets were his own.&nbsp; &nbsp;He had a drive and a will to survive that was always refreshing to see.&nbsp; His determination was certainly one stemmed from wanting to distance oneself from one's past.&nbsp; O'Shay had been worried after seeing his rather empty background as well as his write ups and demotions.&nbsp; He had decided to give Rome a chance and he was rewarding his faith.&nbsp; He had the raw strength to wield the Smart gun, but also the precision and fire discipline to use it well.&nbsp; <br><br>Widow had already hustled in and out.&nbsp; She had gotten that name after breaking the noses of several Marines who had tried to get too familiar on shore leave one time.&nbsp; Her father was a Marine too and it showed.&nbsp; He was aware of their difficult relationship.&nbsp; Anytime, she spoke of her father, he could hear the conflict.&nbsp; One of her reasons for joining had been to be closer to her father.&nbsp; She wanted to prove she was his equal.&nbsp; He liked her fiery determination and her no nonsense attitude.&nbsp; She would make a fine leader when the time came.&nbsp; He was then reminded that after this mission she would have enough hours of combat time for consideration for Corporal.&nbsp; It was a formality as he already knew she was ready to be an NCO.&nbsp; <br><br>Zippo was another Marine brat.&nbsp; He seemed to have a lot of them.&nbsp; Due to her girly-girl nature and relatively young age, he had taken to calling her 'Jailbait' for awhile.&nbsp; He would never forget the day he walked in to berate for being slow to dress.&nbsp; She had tossed several heavy military manuals and a teddy bear at him for 'not knocking' and 'being a pervert'.&nbsp; She had forgotten that there's no time for privacy in the Corp.&nbsp; Since then, she had more than made up for it with her skill with the Flamethower on the practice range.&nbsp; In her first operation, she had held 2 squads of enemies at bay while accounting for 4 kills.&nbsp; From that day forward, she was Zippo.&nbsp; <br><br>Reaper was the ranking NCO behind him.&nbsp; He could certainly shoot as well as any Marine.&nbsp; No that was wrong.&nbsp; He was one of the best marksmen he had seen in some time.&nbsp; His cold demeanor, the source of his name, was something that unsettled him.&nbsp; He had joined as soon as he was 18, perhaps to escape a dull or chaotic life.&nbsp; Even if he did not like his coldness, he understood mission priorities and how to look out for the team.&nbsp; That kind of cold, hard thinking had served him well as a fire team leader.&nbsp; <br><br>Gizmo was a "chucklehead" as he liked to call him.&nbsp; He ranked very average in aptitude but extraordinary in anything relating to electronics, hence his name.&nbsp; What he lacked in strength or marksmanship, he made up for in brains.&nbsp; More than once, his aptitude had coaxed a dud pulse rifle back to life.&nbsp; He still remembered the time he brought an APC back from the dead with a little ingenuity and some wire clamps.&nbsp; He would see to it that he got put into the Combat Engineers when the time came, but for now he still needed to learn to shoot.&nbsp; <br><br><br><br>After kicking everyone out of bed, he busied himself with a quick 20 pushups and situps followed by wash room cleanup.&nbsp; He stuck a stogie in his ear and joined the rest of his men in chow.&nbsp; He went right ahead to the chow line.&nbsp; "Now this here's the life.&nbsp; Three hots when we need 'em.&nbsp; Mmm-MMM! Don't never say the Corp don't take care of you!" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ReijiTabibito</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 09:47:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				PFC Yui 'Zippo' Sakuraba<br><br>The black depths of cryosleep slowly, slowly, began fading away, Yui's vision clearing out from the center towards the edges of her eyesight.&nbsp; She vaguely started hearing things reaching her ears.&nbsp; They were garbled at first, but eventually the sound waves hitting against the inner ear started to cohere and make sense.&nbsp; It was Sarge.&nbsp; Of <em>course</em> it was Sarge.&nbsp; He always did something like this when the platoon came out of the fridge.&nbsp; Sitting up, she carefully pushed the canopy of the bed all the way open, rubbing absentmindedly at her eye with the back of her hand.<br><br>Yui wasn't dressed in much - a tank top with panties.&nbsp; She'd gotten whistled at, once, for wearing them - only for the offender to get 'accidentally' whacked in the face with the business of her flamethrower when she'd 'turned around too fast.'&nbsp; They had gotten the message, because it hadn't happened again.&nbsp; And the message was: Do It Again and Die.&nbsp; Fortunately for her, this platoon was too professional for that.&nbsp; Oh, they teased her, sure, but they did it to everyone else, too.<br><br>Shuffling over to her locker, she opened it up and took out not a pair of pants - that was next on the checklist - but a small teddy bear.&nbsp; "Hey, Taku," she said, kissing the bear on the cheek before putting him back in the locker.&nbsp; Taku, short for Takumi, was something her father had given her when she was younger - though the Marines joked that the stuffed bear was Yui's 'boyfriend.'&nbsp; Her father had pulled a few strings to allow her to carry it, but Taku was important to her - he was a reminder of why she was here.&nbsp; That done, Yui pulled pants out, hanging them on the hook of her locker door.<br><br>Yui then headed to the showers.&nbsp; Boy, was she glad that the Mitchum had double-sided showers.&nbsp; Meant that she could clean herself off without having to have the guys ogle her.&nbsp; Granted, she was a fellow Marine...but out here, she was the closest thing to a woman that they had.&nbsp; Well, aside from Senjo, but she was a synth.&nbsp; Once she was cleaned, she got herself dressed properly, and then headed for food.&nbsp; God, she hoped this mission was simple.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 12:25:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>While the computer worked away on those requests I pulled up a set of the construction schematics for the colony and downloaded them to the platoon commanders computer and my own internal database. I checked for updates. These should have been submitted with the Colony Governor's bi-monthly status reports on construction progress. The last was sixteen months old. No newer plans. I noted that more recent construction would not be logged and that to get a fully updated set of schematics I would need to access the colony's mainframe on-site. I added a one line report of this possible problem to the download as it was sent to Leftenant Mengsk's computer.<br><br>Fifth task. I commenced a standard military- and civilian- channel short range radio wave broadcast down to the planet's surface. The USS Mitchum was saying 'hello'. I set the receivers to record any return transmissions and to broadcast them over the mess deck PA system.<br><br>I looked back at the scan results. Hm. This was not expected. I took recordings of the data of the unregistered structure, including hi-res visible range camera views and fed them to the Leftenant's computer also. Then I hard copied a couple off the terminal's printer.<br><br>FATHER announced the impending officer's briefing. The Leftenant should have this information prior to that.<br><br>I left the machine running and went across to where Leftenant Mengsk was eating. I stood by his shoulder and placed the images on the table before him. <strong>"Sir, scans of the colony 'Jackie's Hope' show no damage or unusual activity. No life signs are being picked up on the surface. The power plant is intact and operating within nominal readings. Surface air breathable but with a storm blowing. Visibility under 200 metres. Passive las-radar and cameras picked up this structure however. Evidence of construction work around it indicates it is a little newer than the main colony buildings five kilometers to the north west. Ferro-concrete and steel structure with plastruct facings. Thirteen stories, a base module and foundations. It is not listed in the colony reports nor in the build specification. I am unable to speculate on it's function at this time."</strong><br><br>http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs41/f/2009/052/f/0/outpost_by_jamga.jpg (http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs41/f/2009/052/f/0/outpost_by_jamga.jpg)<br><br>I did not report on my other checks of the ship or our position - presenting the platoon commander with this information made it self-evident that everything else was in order.<br><br><strong>"I have downloaded a set of the colony construction schematics to your computer, Sir. Their last update was sixteen months ago. It is possible this structure was built since then. I will need to access the colony main frame to check for current data."</strong><br><br>Only the sixth task remained on my list. Intake proteins, vitamins, carbohydrates and liquids. I waited to see if the Leftenant needed me before I joined the food line which was now building up. The mess was becoming noisy with boisterous chatter.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 18:50:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br><em>"Whatever happens, marine, mind that trigger!"<br><br>His fingers twitched. His thumb trembled and quivered, hovering over only an inch between life and death. His entire arm itched as if bitten by a thousand fire ants. Sweat, blood and tears streamed off of his tired and aching body, the grime, the dust and the dirt a messy mixture splashed upon his tattered fatigues and broken armor. His breath was heavy. His blood was hot and pumping hard. He was scared. Flashes of friends and family back home shot through his fear stricken mind.<br><br>Prone by order of the equally messed up NCO that crouched beside him, his sharp eyes scanned the smoke ridden landscape, darting from trees, to bushes and to scorched earth below them. He paid extra mind to his peripherals, fully awake from exhaustion by the burst of adrenaline, an almost full 160 degree view in front of him. Only the poor 5 meter visibility shielded their attacker from view, but the ominous bleeps of the motion tracker indicated that it was still very close. It could be anywhere, behind anything. It could even be behind them, above them, anywhere!<br><br>"Where the fuck is it?" He heard a voice echo to his left, repeating over and over. "Where the fuck is it?"<br>"Its out there! Stay frosty! Stay frosty!" Another echoed to his right, followed by a dull thunk and a horrifying death cry.<br>"Schultz!" The rippling flash of a pulse rifle, and another cry almost immediately after.<br>"Tiny!" The NCO, barely visible in his panic, shouted, "Giz, keep that trigger open, soldier! Its co-"<br><br>He was cut off in mid sentence, the guttural bellow of his words minced into a visceral gargle. He was now alone. All the others around him had disappeared, the mist of the jungle having swallowed them whole. He was alone, with only the only companions remaining being the still bleeping XV35 and the red switch in his palm. He called out their names, all of them, his own voice carried away into the wind, his tunneling vision spinning into heightened panic. The response that returned was a bone chilling chatter and an eerie shuffle of leaves.<br><br>Then, he saw it, a shadow in the mist, looming nearby. His thumb squeezed on the switch.</em><br><br>His eyes flew open and although his body was calm, he felt the sudden need to throw up. Gulping down some spittle to fight off the urge, he rose to sit just as the canopy of his cryo bed opened, stretching his muscles and rolling his shoulders, eager to get out of it as soon as he could. The first thing he felt was a chill, not just down his spine, but all over his half naked self, dressed in military issue boxer shorts. The warmth of the real world slowly came back to him after he stepped himself out of his chamber.<br><br>It was that damn dream again. He thought he had been over that ages ago.<br><br>The din of encouragement from the Sarge that assaulted his ears immediately brought him back to his senses from his brief reminiscing stupor, snapping straight into loose military decorum. To the best of his abilities, he tried to be a soldier enough to be part of his outfit and he did a good enough job for people around him to know his name, rank and file, or at least most of it. They called him Gizmo. Norton Law was his real name, but the Corps found out about his records all the way back from middle school and the nickname stuck all the way through his training and into his tours of duty. A lot of kids picked on him because of his thick glasses in his teens. A lot of cadets picked on him for being the resident 'egg head', the wussy private who couldn't even burst fire a pulse rifle without the gun kicking his shoulder in. It took a while of hard effort but those days were behind him now. He showed them enough of his skills as a hacker and general multi purpose techie for them to show him a bit more respect. He even had a reputation for holding the fastest record time for hacking through standard security doors with a bypass computer, even faster if he used his own personal computer. His current outfit recognized him as the go to guy if they wanted anything fixed in a jiffy, saving their asses and their time more than once in previous military escapades over the past year.<br><br>That was only if it was beyond the abilities or the interest of their synthetic, Senjo. Unlike Gizmo, she was like a walking computer with a body built for trophy wives. He always had this deep rooted, one sided and secret rivalry with her ever since he first found out she was a synth, emotions mixing between awe and respect, envy and hatred, maybe even curiosity and connection. Awe and respect for the level of technology used to build her. Envy and hatred for while Gizmo had to undergo years of hardship to get to where he was, she only needed a program to beat almost everything he could do. Curiosity and connection for that inkling odd feeling that crept up into his head. Sometimes he felt like he could work with her a little easier with a bit of compromise. Rivalry nonetheless, he tolerated her presence around him, but proximity would very normally send him a little on edge.<br><br>On other notes, every other member of this squad could pound his head in with the slightest bad joke. Their LT Caesar, Sarge, Jennifer, especially Rome, and maybe even the 19 year old Yui. He felt that they would have minced him by now, as combat situations were not his complete cup of tea. He was their techie support and demo man. He handled broken things and det charges because he was good at them, and it was because he was good at them that he had not earned a place of disappointment among his peers just yet. It was because he was good at them that he had earned smacks in the back, nods and words of approval, which was nerve wracking at first but he got used to the equal treatment. After one year, he felt like he was finally fitting in somewhere, if maybe squeezing in, as long as he kept his weight up, stayed in step, followed orders and watched their backs.<br><br><em>"Mind that trigger, marine!" A voice in his head called out.</em><br><br>Shaking his head clear, he headed for the showers and got himself cleaned up, dressing himself in the military issue black tank and pants from his locker. After taking a second to look and smile at the picture of his brothers and sisters back home, he headed for the mess hall to get down with chow. 9 years in the army and anything seemed to taste good if it tasted of anything at all, so he no longer had that discomforted step while he made his way there. Entering, he found just about everybody had made it there before him. Joining the cue, the good natured guy fraternized as safely as he could. It was hard sometimes, as he found a lot of them to be quite hardened, grunts as they were, and a geek like him, in his opinion, could seem like a firefly among fighting beetles.<br><br>"And behind curtain number one, we have scrambled eggs. Behind curtain number two, brown goop with chocolate sauce. Yummy!" He knew that the food was not what he said they were. It was a psychological thing that made them look a bit more appetizing, at least to him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 19:14:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>If there was one food I could not go without it would be buttermilk biscuits, slathered with jam, butter or gravy it was my staple and today they were coming out fresh and soft. I had piled up a few in the center part of my tray and asked for the side compartments to get filled with gravy, the table before mine was not all to happy when I swiped their basket of jelly but they weren't eating biscuits. Immediately I began to dig into my mini-mountain of flaky dough, the meal rushed when I heard the announcement ordering me to report to the officer's briefing. <br><em>Damn it, I should at least be given my 20!</em><br><br>Shrugging, I was almost finished when I heard Senjo announce her presence and gave me a full report on the planet's and colony's status. Hearing news of no life signs troubled me, colonies did not just cease activity but I was more focused on how Senjo managed to creep up on me. Back to her report I wiped my mouth with a napkin and stood with tray in hand. <br><strong>"Thank you Senjo, as soon as I can get you up linked to father and Aurora I won't need to lug around that L7."</strong><br>I joked and patted her on the shoulder as I made my way towards the end of the mess hall.<br><strong>"Go on and get something to eat, my gut tells me that we won't be on this ship for very long and you want to get something good before some bastard eats all the biscuits." </strong><br><br>I smiled slightly before I went to dump my tray, passing Gizmo who was in line along the way.<br><strong>"Giz, don't get lost I am going to need your areas of expertise after my briefing" </strong><br>I was determined to get my M557 APC and I was sure Giz could find a way to make it happen. While no one wanted to give the guy a chance I sure as hell did, all those in my unit had and proved their purpose on previous missions and training scenarios in the past. Perhaps it was my own ego on the line but I could say we were the fucking strongest unit in the entire core and no one could say otherwise. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 19:45:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The platoon commander rose and went off to the briefing. I turned my head and regarded my shoulder where a small patch of heat differential and a scuff of red jelly marked the place his hand had contacted my chassis.<br><br><em>"Body. It's body, Senj. Chassis is the subframe, the internals, what gives you rigidity, form and strength. Add the plating then the musculature and the cloned skin and it makes up the whole. The body. And a mighty fine one it is too."</em><br><br>The words of Doctor Korleinovitch were in my database along with every other data input I had been exposed to in my thirty-two months of conscious existence. By comparison and reflection against other data from my environment, both uploaded to me and taken in from conversations, images, sights and sounds around me I was building up a mass of information that allowed my semi-organic brain to take jumps of intuitive cognizance. Learning. Artificial intelligence.<br><br>I raised a hand and using one finger wiped the blob of jelly from my body. I licked the finger clean.<br><br>High sugar content. Useful energy.<br><br>I went to the rear of the food line. Private Law was there. I stood a head higher than him. I reached past him as he commented on the brown goop.<br><br><strong>"It contains twelve percent cocoa solids, sixteen percent vegetable sugars and four percent vegetable fats. With the trace elements technically it is chocolate as defined by the Weyland-Yutani Dietary Advice Board."</strong> Foregoing an aluminium food tray I selected a pint plastic tumbler and filled it with the warm brown slurry. I added a plastic straw and lifted the container to my mouth, drawing up the sugar rich meal. Perfect for my metabolism.<br><br>I lowered the cup. <strong>"Good afternoon. Did you sleep well?"</strong><br><br>Technically, within our orbit and the locking position USS Mitchum was moving into above 'Jackie's Hope' for the purpose of descent and AURORA deployment, it was later than midday on the ship.<br><br>I tilted my head a little to one side and raised the eyebrow on the other side in what I knew to be a gesture of enquiry and light heartedness.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 20:03:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				FATHER’s voice could be heard after exactly 4 minutes had passed “officers’ brief is in one minute” he said calmly “all officers please report to the briefing room immediately.” Even though there were no other officers on board the Mitchum FATHER was sill programmed to address the officer ranks as a plural rather than a singular. As the marines ate their food FATHER prepared the brief, there was much information to go over and relatively little time to do it in, as such he was authorized to cut short any ‘non-essential’ time usage, this meant cutting Lt. Mengsk’s meal time to five minutes. The doors to the brief room slid open as father awaited his arrival. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 20:36:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>Just as he was about to comment on the rest of the spread before him, Gizmo heard the LT call out his name and the assignment to come. Its become a bit of a ritual since that incident with the APC some time ago. All he did was replace a few chalky wiring, clear off some slime, slap the ruined engines with salvage from a power loader and a motor from a generator, literally improvising parts and specs as he went along, and the thing decided to rise again on blazing wings of fire in less than an hour. Didn't have much weapons to use due to the lack of power to run them but it drove well enough for them to get out of a pickle. The thing about APCs was that when it went down, the usual problems were normally hardware, and hardware was always easy to find if you know what to look for. He never thought himself as a greasemonkey, not top of his list of specialties, but having worked on so many computers from so many pieces of equipment, it was easy enough to add the skills to his repertoire. Ever since then, Caesar had wanted him to work on the squad's APC with every sortie, and his call just now could be just that. Completely normal for him. Just normal checks, fueling, greasing, slapping anything that refused to work, and maybe the occasional customization when called for.<br><br>He gave the LT an 'O' ring with his thumb and his index finger, signaling the gesture of an okay with a smile, "Yes, sir."<br><br>He had a lot of thoughts about Caesar. Tiberius Mengsk scared him with all those tattoos and the occasional rebellious nature irked him even more. Where Gizmo came from, the crowd he grew up in would immediately identify the man as a person to stay away from, as it was very natural for in a prejudiced sort of way for geeks to be beat up by people like him. After a while under his command, he changed his opinions of him completely. His decisions and choices had pulled the whole squad through many times before, and he was pretty sure that without his leadership and ruthlessness, Giz may not even be alive today. For that, he showed him his full support, cooperation and discipline, although somewhere along the line, he still feared him as much as he feared any of the bigger, meaner guys around him. Subconsciously after the LT left, he looked about his peripherals on the look out for Rome. Seeing that he was nowhere in sight, he went about his business, picking up a tray.<br><br>Only a second after, he heard Senjo's voice behind him, and that gave him a start for his life, although he tried his best not to show it. A creeping feeling ran up his spine, his muscles a little twitchy and his posture a little stiff, the usual symptoms kicking in whenever she was close to him. As she scooped up the brown goop, he turned his head slightly to allow his peripherals to catch sight of her, irises reaching to the corner of his eyes to look at her without turning all the way around. He avoided complete eye contact.<br><br>"So its veggie flavored chocolate. Just what I need. Could help better if the stuff had a proper name." He spoke to her, as convincingly natural as he could, "Good afternoon to you too, Senjo. I slept alright, I guess."<br><br>All the while, his hands worked on automatic. He served himself some of the brown goop and moved up the line to get himself some of the butter cookies.<br><br>"How bout you?" He suddenly paused, "Uh, sorry. Silly question for me to ask. Cryo must have slowed my brain."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>19-05-2010, 21:38:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The mess hall filled up pretty quick, that was the usual Jennifer had become used to. She grabbed a tray and went through the line in her turn, picking and grabbing at the smaller portioned specials before getting to the more filling, meal specific servings. She plopped some goopey brown stuff into an empty spot on her tray, moving onto a more greenish, harder substance she knew was chowder. What kind, she didn't want to know, no telling how it had changed since its original production. She hoped it had changed, at least a little. At some point it probably looked delicious, but now it was only good enough to stand. For Jennifer at least, she prefered field MRE's. She wasn't as used to mess as most other Marines; her time with the 1/1 Sol Marines was spent in conflict zones all across the galaxy, and rarely was a mess hall around. She grabbed some sauce as she passed by, not sure what it was but adding some extra taste might not suck, along with a packet of pepper.<br><br>Now that she was here, on a ship destined for a rescue mission, she eased down a little and tried to enjoy it. The tray filled up quickly as she reached the end, dropping whatever she could, including biscuits and cookies, onto her tray or on top of other things already on the tray. With her mountain of food in tow, Jennifer grabbed some utensils and moved towards the end table, sitting down and sliding her tray down onto the pristine white surface. She seated herself and picked up her fork, digging at the food staring back at her. The food smelled good, that was at least something to look forward too, as she picked up a piece of the cornbread and dunked it into some sauce, biting off a piece and chewing it briefly, she sprinkled the pepper around and poured some dressing onto anything not already a liquid. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 02:53:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>It wasn't until I was out the Mess Hall's doors did I notice I had missed some jelly on my hand. Promptly the hand was shoved into my pocket and cleaned as covertly as possible as I made my way down the multiple halls to the briefing room. Not another soul in sight which only meant my team was the only one going down. There was no need to greet FATHER as it would not matter to him but I did announce my arrival. <br><strong>"Lieutenant Tiberius Mengsk reporting in"</strong><br>My hands had naturally fallen behind my back as my body shifted into attention as I would greet any superior officer but my hand came up to check the time. <br><strong>"0759" </strong><br>I had arrived a few seconds shy of the five minute warning and quickly went to find a seat facing the screen. Most of the information I would be briefed on would be presented soon and I wanted to make sure I did not miss anything important. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 03:28:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>Rome was still naked from his cryosleep. Most of the other marines in the regiment at least wore skivvies in cryosleep, but Rome had discovered that, if covered, his skin reacted badly to the cryo process resulting in blisters where clothing had touched his skin. As a result, Rome always went naked into cryosleep. <br><br>As Rome finished a set of chin-ups he heard the Sarge call out, <strong>"That's it, leatherneck! That's what I want to see! Dedication!"</strong> Rome dropped from the bar and answered back, <strong>“Ooh-Rah Sarge!”</strong> His mouth slowly curled into a smug grin as he opened his locker and grabbed a towel before heading to the showers. As he walked he slung the towel over his shoulder and spoke to whoever was within ear shot <strong>“Gotta keep this finely honed instrument of death and destruction in tip top shape, right? After all, I am Marine Corps property.”</strong> The question was rhetorical, and although Rome was a little vain when it came to his physique, he purposefully exaggerated his vanity to get a rise out of the others. The reactions of his squad mates were often times priceless. <br><br>Rome hit the showers, cleaned up and hit the lockers again, quickly changing into his Marine Corps black tank and combat trousers and pulled on his combat boots. He grabbed his combat knife from the top shelf of his locker, slipped it onto his belt and tied it off around his leg. <br><br>Rome double-timed it to the mess hall where everyone else was either already eating or in line for chow. Moving toward the chow line, he saw Senjo and Gizmo talking. He overheard some of their conversation as he reached the end of the line. He grinned mischievously and gave Senjo a firm slap on her perfect synthetic ass. <strong>“Mornin’ sweet cheeks. Why don’t you pull them shorts down and bend over that table over there and I'll give you some REAL chocolate ,”</strong> He flexed his right bicep, holding his arm in close to his body and leaned in to kiss his own bulging bicep. <strong>“You know you want some, don’t you Senjo?”</strong>&nbsp; He glanced past Senjo and winked jokingly at Gizmo. Clearly visible on his right shoulder was a tattoo of a Roman war eagle grasping a scroll in its talons set against a laurel wreath backdrop. On the scroll was large lettering that read <em>“SPQR.”</em> Rome held the flexing pose for a moment longer and let his arm fall back to his side as he erupted into boisterous laughter. He didn’t care if the others found it humorous or not, or maybe he did and that was why he laughed at his own antics so loudly.<br><br>After regaining his composure, he grabbed a tray and promptly moved through the chow line piling some of everything onto his tray before moving to find a vacant seat where he could scarf down the slop. He had to hurry because he still needed to check his gear and get prepped for whatever the hell it is they were sent here to do.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 03:39:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				At exactly 0800 the lights in the briefing room dimmed and the doors closed “Good morning Lt.” FATHER said “if you will direct your attention to the screen the briefing will begin.” FATHER waited exactly 3 seconds then began the brief. A picture of Jackie’s Hope shimmered onto the screen.&nbsp; And FATHER began to speak. <br><br>“USMC Command<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Opperations Brief # 33456<br>Contact lost with Weyland-Yutani Corp.’s civilian colony, “Jackie’s Hope,” on planetoid LV-1875, last known contact indicates possible terrorist activity. 1st squad of USMC Kilo Platoon of Charlie Company, 5th Regiment is hereby dispatched to above stated colony, Kilo platoon will assess the situation, determine what events took place, identify any threats, and eliminate said threats with extreme prejudice. Any surviving colonists are to be protected and evacuated. Mission objectives in order of priority are as follows. <br><br>Establish Contact with Jackie’s Hope, and determine current state of the colony.<br>Identify any previously and currently existing threats <br>Eliminate said threats<br>Protect Weyland-Yutani Corp. equipment<br>Maintain minimal USMC losses<br>Protect surviving colonists<br><br>……Briefing Amended…….<br><br>An unknown building has shown up on preliminary scans. As a result 2st squad of USMC Kilo Platoon of Charlie Company, 5th Regiment currently onboard the USS Carthage has been rerouted from its return to Gateway Station in order to assist 1st squad on its mission, they are currently lacking a platoon commander but otherwise are at full combat readiness. it is estimated that they will arrive two hours after 1st squad. Upon arrival 2nd squad will make planet fall and immediately be under operational command of Lt. Mengsk. One additional objective has been added to your mission…your new objectives list in order of priority is as follows.<br><br><br>Establish Contact with Jackie’s Hope, and determine current state of the colony.<br>Identify any previously and currently existing threats <br>Eliminate said threats<br>Investigate Unknown Building<br>Protect Weyland-Yutani Corp. equipment<br>Maintain minimal USMC losses<br>Protect surviving colonists<br><br><br><br>-Brief Ends-<br><br>Are their any questions?"<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 09:25:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"So its veggie flavored chocolate. Just what I need. Could help better if the stuff had a proper name."<br><br>"Good afternoon to you too, Senjo. I slept alright, I guess."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><strong>"I like the label 'chocolate goop'. It is as satisfactory a descriptor as any other. Sugars are good for my system. It is my favourite."</strong><br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"How bout you? Uh, sorry. Silly question for me to ask. Cryo must have slowed my brain."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> I made over my features what passes for a wide smile. The man would sometimes fall into that category in my database that had the heading 'cute'. <strong>"It is fine. In my parlance I slept perfectly. Thank you for asking."</strong> I noted the marginal lack of eye contact and the mildly hesitant body posture. I had detected a measure of reticence and awkwardness before in Private Law when he interacted with me. It was not an uncommon response to my presence in many individuals. I logged the incident and made a note to attempt a social resolution of the issue at a convenient moment soon.<br><br>I detected a slight air pressure wave behind me, calculating that it was being propelled by a human sized object of more than average bulk. Only two people in the squad matched the probable data and one of those had departed for the officer's briefing. I momentarily considered if what the humans called their 'sixth sense' was equivalent to my skin sensors detecting nearby objects by means of their small air pressure waves and minuscule sounds.<br><br>This would be Lance Corporal Beneke.<br><br><em>Smakk!</em> My body hardly shifted from the blow. It has considerable mass. An instantaneous run-by check detected no damage to surface covering or underlying tissue and structure.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">“Mornin’ sweet cheeks. Why don’t you pull them shorts down and bend over that table over there and I'll give you some REAL chocolate. You know you want some, don’t you Senjo?”</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> <strong>"Good afternoon, Lance Corporal."</strong> I processed the offer he was presenting and while I understood the semantics, proceeding with such an act now would result in a situation leading to a possible raised level of indiscipline in the unit. <strong>"Now would not be an appropriate time. I shall log your offer and consider it again when our mission is complete."</strong> I had turned to face him and put my lips over the end of the straw in my 'chocolate goop'. I drew up a thick taste of the sweet material and a tiny droplet drizzled out onto my chin. The act was deliberate. I had a full database of sexual imagery and innuendo. While the act had little significance for me it may help unit morale if Lance Corporal Beneke drew some entertainment value from it.<br><br>I looked down at his tattoo; a device of ancient Rome from Earth's far past. <strong>"I see you are all prepared to give succour to the upstanding citizens of our far flung colonies and wield mighty retribution down upon any barbarian hordes at the gates."</strong> At times I am able to draw upon linguistic tools and devices in my library and grammatical database to useful effect.<br><br>The Lance Corporal laughed though I have known him to laugh with equal volume and intensity at situations where he receives no response at all, I thus concluded his outburst was not as a result of my response.<br><br>Private Law had moved on ahead down the line of marines, Lance Corporal Beneke following. Still drinking my drink I went after them and took a seat opposite Private Law and near Lance Corporal Mitchell. I quietly observed Law while remaining discreet.<br><br>Observing the mess deck around me I noted I was the only individual not clothed in combat fatigues and boots. I should take more recognition of the differences already existing between myself and the others and make attempts to close the gaps. After eating I resolved to return to the cryo chamber and dress appropriately.<br><br>Next task: be available to Leftenant Mengsk post-debriefing if required.<br><br>Next task: check scan and comms data again. Eight minutes and forty-five seconds had elapsed since I had opened the universal communication broadcast from the ship. The lack of a response by now was already significant.<br><br>Next task: unpack, dry-deploy and run systems tests on the UA-571C's ... <br><br>Next task: ....<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_06.jpg)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sanai</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 17:28:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				CORPORAL JOHN MORDEN, CALLSIGN REAPER, FIRE TEAM LEADER.<br><br>Reaper, having awoken like all of the other marines, briskly walked from his cryo-pod to the showers, using the minimal amount of water, ice cold, before heading to his locker. He quickly dressed, pulling on his standard issue marine combat pants, tank top, belt and boots, before slipping on his knife's leg holster. He then retrieved his knife from it's case, as well as a sharpening tool. He then walked into the mess hall.<br><strong>"Rome, the synthetic has things to do. I doubt it is interested in such...activities at this time."</strong> Reaper said softly, while be filled a cup with the nutritional "goop". He then sat down at the table, and began to sharpen his knife methodically, creating a somewhat distracting noise as metal scraped against metal, pausing occasional to sip more of his beverage.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 18:21:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay <br><br>He couldn't help but watch the exchange between Rome and Senjo.&nbsp; As somewhat rehearsed as it sounded, she was bantering wit him.&nbsp; He had to admit he liked it.&nbsp; He laughed out loud.&nbsp; " 'Glad they programmed you with a sense of humor.&nbsp; You're gonna need it here." <br><br>He finished up his meal of SOS and biscuits, and somewhat leisurely sipped his coffee.&nbsp; "Don't get too comfortable.&nbsp; I want full equipment checks in 10 minutes.&nbsp; I don't want to see no grime on your gear.&nbsp; Gizmo, you better be squared away before the LT needs you."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 20:11:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer was content to believe anything about her assignments, whatever the Corps told her to do she was happy to comply. Her stations before this had always been so... unwanted, but she was so used to them that everything on this ship seemed foreign despite how often she was deployed in one. The scene at the chow line was unfamiliar, but made her laugh out loud just the same. The synthetic had something going for... it. Her, Jennifer couldn't get used to the fact that underneath the skin Senjo was mechanical, perfect in every conceivable way apart from her. Squishy and fragile were Jennifer's insides, and yet Senjo was twice as strong, twice as smart and twice as fast despite not at all looking like a killing machine. All in all, Jennifer was happy to have her.<br><br>As she finished a cup of coffee and her tray lay empty if dirty, Jennifer leaned forward on the table and looked down the line of tables. Gizmo reminded Jennifer of a Corporal from her old unit in 1/1 Sol, light hearted, pretty easy going and easy to know. She liked him for what he did, even if he were a little too smart for her personal liking, he was a generally all around nice guy. Rome, on the other hand, was a guy who reminded her a lot of an old classic action hero, very... affectionate to women but good at his job. She liked him well enough, he was a fellow Marine and was dutiful when the job was at hand, othertimes she was annoyed albeit entertained by him. <br><br>She couldn't see the Lieutenant, but knew hew as likely being briefed. Jennifer didn't know him very well, only that he was a pretty infamous officer in the latrine rumors for his conduct and the fact a lot of other officers Jennifer knew didn't like him. Some of the more stuck up, bench jockey officers Jennifer had unfortunately run into hated the guy, and so she liked him by reputation alone already. Otherwise, he seemed chummy towards the squad which put her at least on ease that he wasn't a complete asshole, some stuck up OCS grad looking for a free ticket to college, with her life being a slight inconveinience to his personal progress. The only member she didn't know more than the Lieutenant was Yui, aka Zippo, the youngest of the bunch and an overall mystery to Jennifer. There were rumors her daddy was an officer and pulled strings, but she appeared capable if way to young to be here. Jennifer probably sympathized with her the most, the terrible memories of Xion-XM104, an anti-pirate operation just outside the reaches of Sol that Jennifer had been part of when she was just 18 and fresh, green as a leaf, threw her the most nightmares out of all her personal hells. Over a thousand civilians had died, three times that in pirates and nearly 200 Marines had been killed, a thousand or more wounded. A once green, relatively peaceful if crime parched colonial farming waypoint had been turned into a muddy, death ridden hell that was so stained with death and horror, no one wanted to recolonize it, most of the green farm fields being reduced to crater ridden, tank and dropship carcas ridden muddy wastelands. Being 18 and naive, Jennifer had never experienced torment equal to those memories. Yui being called Zippo was well earned however, Jennifer hated the flamerthrower but Zippo handled it like Senjo did long words. Way to damn well.<br><br>A loud, awkward scraping noise caught Jennifer's attention, and she looked over at Corporal Morden, known as Reaper so she was aware. She didn't know him well, probably because he put her off with that look. He looked like she had after Xion, dead inside. Tired of everything, dead of all emotion. She'd grown since then, maybe he had gone through the same thing. Hell, for all she knew he was on XM104, she didn't know where anyone here had been stationed before if they had even been transfered, or what. She respected him for that though, she could understand the feeling he seemed to display, if for no other reason then she was exactly like him a few years ago.<br><br>The final member of the team for Jennifer to think of was Master Sergeant O'Shay. Like any other senior NCO he commanded respect in many aspects, each of which Jennifer was willing to respect him in. The only thing she was uneasy about was how much he reminded her of her father, the same intensity and the same aura of command that she both hated and felt safe around in her youth. Now, she couldn't get that idea out of her head, how much he was similar to her father, they seemed one in the same. Even the same way of both praising the Corps and berating his troops in the same sentence.<br><br>The Master Sergeant's words struck as she poked her fork into the empty tray in a daydream, she stood up and grabbed the tray, walking it towards a dispenser and shoving it in. The machine rumbled quietly as Jennifer reached into her pocket and produced a small band. She used it to tie her blonde hair into a firm pony tail, rolling her neck until it cracked. The only true friend she had was sitting in a locker, unloaded and feeling unloved. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 20:17:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>As soon as Rome appeared from out of nowhere, Gizmo almost froze to a block of ice. So concentrated he was to keep his profile a little low with the nerves that he almost barely did not notice him just a few feet away. He was just about to speak to Senjo again, something light and conversational, but with the big man suddenly making his entrance made him close his mouth. He only smiled awkwardly at him after his comments and seemingly lewd offer to Senjo, trying his best to call in the 'joke'.<br><br>In truth, he found it discomforting. The mere suggestion of it in such a public place was embarrassing and flushing in the face was always close to bare. He even thought that he might have been dead serious about it and taken the synthetic there and then. Roman Beneke was one to always make those kind of jokes, and some of them may not even be anywhere close to joke in a matter of speaking. Sometimes he seemed serious, which petrified Giz to the core, not because of his size and demeanor, but because of his past histories. He knew about the big man's records. Read through his files several times and shivered while trying to imagine the things he did and the things he was capable of doing. A dangerous man, Giz thought, one he really did not want to piss off, more than even the LT.<br><br>After grabbing whatever chow he knew he could finish real quick, he plopped himself down and was not very surprised to see Senjo and Rome sit nearby. Having the synthetic next to him was a lot more of a comfort than sitting next to Rome so he was glad that he sat at the corner of the mess table. Immediately after he settled himself in, he found that he had leaned forward a little too far on his seat, his dogtags jingling out from under his loose tank. He specifically customized it with a longer chain, as on the shiny metal necklace that was fastened around his neck was another accessory that he normally did not speak of. The weird looking pendant was three inches long, an inch wide, shaped in a Y with the hands curved into something like a crab claw. Light, sleek and shiny, the head was barbed with dulled down hooks and the tail simply a thin rod. It clinked against the metal table, which prompted him to immediately seize it and tuck it back under his tank. The other squad members had asked what it was, and he simply said that it was a momento from a previous mission, something to remember things by, something very important to him. He had never told them about what exactly it was and how he got it, having gotten permission from high places to keep it with him. No one had been curious enough to probe further.... Sooner or later, he would have to tell someone.... but he was not sure if he was ready for that yet.... Not until he thought about it a bit more....<br><br>He really hoped that Senjo wouldn't ask, having acted as fast as he could. The last thing he needed was her analyzing the metal of his momento as unknown....<br><br>He wolfed down his food. The memories were not helping him in staying calm. The dreams he had did not seem to have stopped and he felt like he may need to talk about it to someone soon, orders not to or no. Ever since that operation, he had always been having them, replaying in his sleep over and over. PWS, maybe. Post War Stress was a very common case among many army vets since the dawn of humanity, but those take some time to manifest. All he did was live through a single incident that changed his life in the Corps, and he already felt like he could just break down and cry like a baby. Maybe he was just being a wuss again. Maybe he was really damn lucky. That frustrating and agonizing question still remained unanswered, even after one whole year in a different outfit.<br><br><em>Damn..... Why am I still alive?</em><br><br>Then he heard the Sarge call him out, snapping back to reality from his quiet already almost finished meal. He nodded at the CO, "Alrightie, sir."<br><br>No time to think. Not right now. He'll have to do it while he worked on the APC.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 22:45:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>As part of my basic software install I have numerous files that cover medicine, principally focussing on battlefield trauma and how to respond appropriately to it. I am also capable of recognizing PSTD, in particular how it can affect the efficiency of soldiers in battle. A soldier who is not operating at one hundred per cent efficiency is universally common. One whose efficiency drops significantly with the resulting behaviours beginning to pose a risk to himself or herself and their unit members is an issue. As I consumed my beverage I let the movements and body language of PFC Law come under my observation. I studied and compared his motions to a large library of video data and sound recordings I had been exposed to during school.<br><br>School for a MegaTech body shell consists of sitting in a chair for two weeks and having data feeds of almost every conceivable subject fed into you via hi bandwith cables. Languages, politics, religion, history, art, geography, math, physics, chemistry, geology, astronomy, biosciences... the basics. On top of this raw soup of fundamental facts is loaded the more tenuous but more useful mass of data that qualifies these building blocks. For example, religion is qualified by the conflicts within Christianity, and between Christian and Muslim. Politics is overlaid by Earth-history examples of the different systems of government. Languages are qualified by social progressions. History by the commentaries on the great campaigns of Caesar, Alexander, Napoleon, Hitler, Xamshang. Physics by the necessities and limitations of sub-light space travel. The list is long. This is the first stage of school.<br><br>I became aware over the course of school that one element bears upon another. No element exists in isolation. In the middle years of the twenty second century the Great Social Unrest was a direct result of geography and the masses of people who chose to live near or below sea level. The Ganges delta floods of 2177 are but one example. Geography bears upon politics, politics upon religion. It is all linked. This is the second stage.<br><br>It is human experience. It became my experience. My neural links activated, fired up, joined, broke asunder, diverged, grew.<br><br>I learned. This is the third stage of school.<br><br>I became aware that the formatting of the data itself determined how I perceived it. The bias of those who gave the data to me built me into an image of their own requirements and expectations. After school I sought out additional sources of data and availed myself of those. In the cases of politics and religion in particular I discovered that much of my basic schooling was heavily slanted. I discovered that I was a right wing neo-Christian-sympathetic. I studied further. I sought balance in my learning. I found that every source of data was impure. Every book, every painting, every video archive, every poem had been collated and created by humans each one of whom had a reason to present their case in the way they did. I learned why this was. The discovery that there are no such things as plain facts but the sum of the knowledge we bear as a race is tainted by those who witnessed it and recorded it and interpreted it became one of the most enlightening discoveries in my short life.<br><br>School had taught me that in observing Private Law I discovered that he was afraid. Afraid of a mixture of things. The soldiers around him; some in particular. The expectations his superiors held. Possibly something that had occurred in his past.<br><br>Also, me.<br><br>Private Law had witnessed data, recorded it, interpreted it, stored it. His personality had assumed a bias from his experiences.<br><br>I completed my intake of proteins, sugars and vitamins and stood up. As I departed the mess table I chose to deploy a gesture that the Leftenant used on me. As I passed behind Private Law I briefly rested a hand on his shoulder and applied light momentary pressure... I lifted the hand and moved on.<br><br>*&nbsp; *&nbsp; *<br><br>At the computer terminal I checked the activity in response to our broadcast. There was none. There was also no practical way to determine if the failure by the colonists to respond was due to physical incapability or if their transmitter was out of commission. In the event of a natural catastrophe all WYC colony structures have a back-up comms and transmitter module located distant from the main tower. It would be a serious event that would render both out of commission. Camera scans of the surface since I had opened the scanning suite showed no new light sources that survivors might use. No light patterns, no beacons.<br><br>No-one was waving a torch and shouting 'hey I'm here!'<br><br>I stored and logged the scanning data, typed up a half page report and entered it into the computer. The USS Mitchum would automatically transmit my data and report on the next scheduled flash pulse communication.<br><br>I then departed the mess deck and returned to the cryo chamber to dress for duty.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 23:05:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay<br><br>O'Shay noted that strange charm Gizmo had.&nbsp; The only thing he noted about it was how morbid it looked and that he was so protective of it.&nbsp; Nonetheless, it didn't matter.&nbsp; If it doesn't interfere with Corp business, than it was none of his business or concern.&nbsp; Not wanting the squad to get too comfortable after their finished meals, he started rapping the table with his hand.&nbsp; "Spare time means time to get your kit together! Get to your weapon lockers! I want that shit so clean, you can see your ugly mugs in it! MOVE IT, Marines! On the double!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 00:55:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br><strong>"Negative."</strong><br>In reality I had a million questions but I knew that FATHER would not give me the answers I was seeking. Hell the reason we were going down there set off a few alarms in my head as I heard the briefing. Assessing the condition of the colony was simple enough but I could tell the WYC had some type of input in this mission if they did not really prioritize the colonist's safety. With talks of an unknown building I only began to imagine what the hell was going down on that planet. It was not rare for these colonies to rebel or be taken over by rogue factions. If some how Jackie's hope had gone rogue and formed a militia, I was not about to send my unit and self to their graves.&nbsp; My guts ached, that primal instinct of mine yelling at me to take this mission with extreme care. <br><br>Rising back to my feet I waited to be dismissed, standing back at attention as I was sure some officer either on this ship or on another world was recording my every move. Unfortunately for them I had one hell of a poker face and if they thought they could gauge any fear or uncertainty in my eyes they would be sourly disappointed. <br><br>---<br><br>Once I was dismissed I made my way back towards our temporary barracks and pulled Giz aside. I spoke low for I did not want any evidence of what I was about to ask our resident techie. Just because I was willing to put my ass out on the line for my unit did not mean I would ask anyone else to go down with me. I wanted that APC, but looking over the unit's assigned equipment it was not included in our good bye kit. The brass was not willing to hand it over, so I was going to take it.&nbsp; They were all preparing, no doubt in my mind Sarge was behind it all.<br>"<em><strong>Giz, I may or may not be asking you to weave your magic and make sure that when we drop down today... that "Juliet" gets dropped as well...it's either that or we are going to be doing a hell of a lot of walking down on LV-1875, capiche?" </strong></em><br>Nodding at him once I let him get back to getting his kit prepped. <br><strong><br>"Once you are all suited and booted report to bay 1 with all your gear, I will give you all the info I know." </strong><br>I retreated to the officer's quarters in order to get into my own gear, FATHER treated the M190 Key Personnel Body Armor exactly like any father would treat his seventeen year old daughter on a Friday with knowledge of marines on leave, locked up fucking tight!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 01:08:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Mengsk walked into the officers’ quarters FATHER scanned his biothermal signature. “Good afternoon Lt. Mengsk” he said calmly already unlocking the armory section of the officers’ quarters “Your armor is prepped and ready” 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 06:06:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3055248#msg3055248">Quote from: Sanai on 20-05-2010, 17:28:10</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">CORPORAL JOHN MORDEN, CALLSIGN REAPER, FIRE TEAM LEADER.<br><br><br><strong>"Rome, the synthetic has things to do. I doubt it is interested in such...activities at this time."</strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>He looked towards Reaper with a mock look of surprise and then stretched out his arms, presenting himself as evidence. <strong>“What better thing is there for her to do, Reaper? She might have all kinds of fancy programs and infinite knowledge databases but none of that shit can hold a fuckin' candle to the fuckin' 'Roman Empire', baby! Ya know?”</strong> He let his arms drop to his side after a few moments and chuckled as he moved to take a seat. <strong>“Fuck, Reaper! I’m just fuckin’ around, man! She’s just a fucking synth anyway, shit! Truth is *I’VE* got better things to do!”</strong> He chuckled and shook his head as moved to find a seat.<br><br>Rome moved to the table where Gizmo was sitting, came around behind him and leaned over to speak where only Gizmo could hear him. <strong>“She does have a sexy fuckin’ ass though, don’t she Giz?”</strong> He gave Gizmo a slap on the back and a chuckle as he took a seat across from him. <strong>“Now, you gotta ask yourself why those crazy fucks at&nbsp; MegaTech would create a synth with an ass like that. Fuckin' nerd herd can’t&nbsp; ‘em some real pussy so they just make their own. You know what I’m talkin’ about, don’t you Giz?”</strong> Rome shifted and scooted his chair in just the right spot and glanced up at Gizmo with a stone cold, featureless expression and sat statue still for a good 30 seconds before flashing him a big toothy grin and laughing again. He reached across the table and gave Gizmo a firm slap on the side of his shoulder. <strong>“Shit, I’m just fuckin’ witcha, Giz!”</strong><br><br>‘I’m just fuckin’ witcha!’ That was Rome’s response whenever he thought someone was taking him too seriously and apparently he thought people took him too seriously quiet often.&nbsp; It was his way to scale things back a bit and avoid getting yelled at by the Sarge, though it didn’t always work.<br><br>He finally tore his icey gaze away from Gizmo and shoveled a heaping spoon of military goop in his mouth, chewing several times before he glanced back up to Gizmo and spoke, his mouth still mostly full. <strong>“Hey Giz, stop by my locker when you’re done stuffin’ your face, would ya?”</strong>&nbsp; He glanced back up to Gizmo and chuckled before he had a chance to answer. <strong>“Relax Giz, baby! I’m not gonna eat you or anything like that. We’re on the same team, my man!”</strong> That big, crazy, toothy grin returned, this time covered with Marine slop. He started shoving food into his mouth again, talking as he hurriedly devoured his chow. <strong>“I want ya to see about mounting a motion tracker view screen on the ‘Sexy Beast’ before we deploy”</strong>&nbsp; <br><br>He knew that he intimidated Gizmo and he played the part with more enjoyment than he should, especially considering that Gizmo was a fellow squad mate who had saved his sorry ass on more than one occasion since he joined Kilo platoon. But, Rome wasn't exactly adept at social interactions which is why he could count his friends on one hand and still have fingers left over. Also, he figured that there were things worse than himself that Gizmo should be afraid and, though it was not his place to do, he felt that perhaps forcing him to confront his fears would make him a better Marine, or at least more of what Rome considered made a good Marine. Tough. Fearless. So, perhaps in some small way, his behavior towards Gizmo was his subconscious' way of trying to help Gizmo grow as a Marine as well as a way to say 'thanks' and to repay him for the times Gizmo had helped him. As for the others in the squad, they had saved his ass on many occasions as well, but he had saved theirs too. That's what Marines do. Besides, he didn't know of anything he could do to 'help' them like he could 'help' Gizmo.<br><br>He finished his chow and lifted the tray to his face, licking the remnants before standing and taking the tray to the disposal bin. He glanced back at Gizmo one last time as he left the mess hall. <strong>“Hey Sarge! Permission to eat Gizmo’s liver if we run out of MRE’s planet side?” </strong>He grinned stupidly and started jogging to the ship's barracks to prep his gear.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 07:40:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Denied.&nbsp; Save some 'scary' for the shithells we're gonna waste," he said in a joking manner.&nbsp; "Rome could stand to dial it back a notch or two, but he meant well," he thought.&nbsp; All weapons and equipment got checked in and rechecked.&nbsp; He expected their weapons would already be clean as he insisted on a full check before cryo sleep.&nbsp; &nbsp;Blades where sharpened, firing chambers were checked and rechecked, electronics were tested and retested for errors, armor was checked for holes and wear n' tear.&nbsp; <br><br>He checked his own gear.&nbsp; His M12 Armor was securely fastened.&nbsp; He checked the camera and the advanced communications on the helmet.&nbsp; Communication was always key.&nbsp; His Pulse Rifle "Betty" was ready.&nbsp; She'd become an even bigger killer thanks to the HEAP rounds he got off base.&nbsp; They're status as a WMD was being debated, but until the Feds made a decision, he was going to use them.&nbsp; <br><br>"All right! All of you front and center!" All six of them lined up from left to right in rank and seniority order.&nbsp; He started at Reaper and walked back and forth.&nbsp; They knew this drill.&nbsp; He went up and down the line, presenting arms.&nbsp; He expected no mistakes.&nbsp; He had drilled that out of all of them ages ago, but he had to keep them honest.&nbsp; "All right, Bay 1! On the double! MOVE IT!"<br><br>The squad lined up again in Bay 1 "Zippo! Pilot Light!" the squad knew he was about say something big whenever he told Zippo to light his stogie up.&nbsp; He paced back and forth, puffing away for about 30 seconds before stopping to speak.&nbsp; "Now this is what I want to see! Six of the nastiest badasses this side of Sol! Fucking beautiful!" <br><br>He turned and saluted to Caesar as he appeared.&nbsp; "Six of the Marine Corp's finest killers ready and waiting for your orders, sir!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sanai</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 08:11:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				CORPORAL JOHN MORDEN, CALLSIGN REAPER, FIRE TEAM LEADER.<br><br>Reaper lined up with the others and stood at attention, now fully bedecked in his M12 Personal Combat Armour and M111 Helmet, as he did his third check of his black pulse rifle's ammo selector and firing mechanism. The word "Scythe" was written neatly in white letters across the barrel. A single bullet, instead of just a bullet casing, hung around his neck, with his full name and callsign engraved on it. He then checked that his pouch full of syringes was full for the fourth time. He would not have his combat stims be stolen again by some marine looking for a cheap high.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 09:19:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>A lot of feelings passed through him in the next 10 minutes. Just as he was about to get up and go with a heavy heart, he felt Senjo's hand on his shoulder. A simple gesture of encouragement, and it worked beautifully. That brought him back from the dead. A less than aggressive knock in the noggin to bring him back to the present after a few minutes of chowing down. There was a lot for him to think about and get over with, but now was not the time for any self therapy. He was on a mission, with a new unit, with shiny new gear and possibly a new familiar enemy to face. Colonel Hayes back home had the idea and the hunch. Left some useful information in his personal computer to help him out some and that information, classified as it was, had given him an idea of the nature of how things were going to go.<br><br>This time it shouldn't be that bad. He was confident that this outfit could tackle almost anything thrown at them.<br><br>Before he could let his determination fuel his resolve, Rome sat himself down next to him, startling him again. The big man always had this effect on him, and he hardly ever spoke to him unless he had to. He started to babble about Senjo, those dirty unclean thoughts that plagued every testosterone driven man, let alone a Corps marine. It wasn't like Gizmo had any thoughts about it. He was a man after all, and as Senjo was built to look like she is, of course he had those inkling feelings, urges and thoughts every now and then. He was just not a man to voice out those kind of things in public. Seeing that she was no longer in the room, he whispered back, to satisfy the big man's appetite for bothering him like this,<br><br>"Yeah.... I guess-"<br><br>The sudden slap on the back stung, cutting him off to wince. Rome's big beefy hand hurt, a lot. He felt like a truck had just hit him full speed on his spine. Trying his best to wince only slightly and fighting back that urge to puke out his food, he spoke in a strained voice,<br><br>"Yeah, I get where you're coming from, Rome...."<br><br>The ice cold stare that came afterwards as the usual fare. Chilling and discomforting. He stared back uneasily, of course, gulping down a bit of spittle to clear his dry mouth. For 30 seconds, he endured and the shoulder slap sent another world of pain through his body. He preferred Senjo's gentle approach to get him back in gear, but he somehow thought that he was getting very used to this. Sooner or later, he might bust something, being only of average physique. Nonetheless, the sentiment was there. Long time ago, Rome didn't give him any of this treatment and he had feared him a lot more when he first joined the squad. Now after so long, he wasn't as intimidated as he was before. That look in the face, those massive pulsating muscles, jolly joking attitude. He was getting used to it all. With that revelation in mind, he tried his best to get into his next joke by chuckling as naturally as he could, trying harder not to imagine him eating his liver like a ravenous monster....<br><br>After leaving the mess hall, Gizmo worked fast! After hearing from the LT what his intentions were, his gut turned upside down. He knew that he would be fried in the ass to a BBQ crisp by higher brass if they found out that he had prepped 'Juliet' for sortie without their consent. He was running around, gotten to his gear, gotten dressed for duty, checked his weapons and equipment, made his way to the hangar and attempted to prep up the APC fastened onto the deck. Juliet was a great asset to have on the field and Giz had no qualms on whipping it out. Problem was that the brass made sure that the computers and drive systems had a really nasty looking password protected lock this time, both in the drive systems and the main on-board computer. Nothing he couldn't fix, if he had the time, but he knew that those locks had to be there for a reason.... Maybe they anticipated the LT wanting to take it out so they made sure that he didn't without anyone looking, maybe even using FATHER to carry out their dastardly plan since the thing was plugged into the ship. They could do things like that, much to his dismay, even from so many light years away. He'd have to explain to the LT later.<br><br>All the other preps were routine so he spent an incredibly small amount of time to get it all done. The thing that took the most time was rigging Rome's motion tracker onto Rome's smartgun. Wasn't an easy job but it was doable. Had to grab some spare parts from an unused requisitioned XV35 in an equipment locker, more like a broken one from a previous op. There were no other slap on pieces he could use to make it any lighter so he had to strap the screen and the electronics to the side of the frame, throwing out pretty much the bulk of the whole thing, balancing it just enough to keep it from being too muzzle or stock heavy. Welding would be out of the question, as the heat from the gun firing even a burst could fry it instantly. Wasn't his prettiest piece of work, weighty one too, but it functioned perfectly and he was pretty sure Rome could carry the extra pounds easy.<br><br>Everything was done quick. His brain working on overdrive, multitasking a little with each task he worked on, only just barely making it to Bay 1 where everyone else waited. He took a second to adjust his helmet as he joined the line, ready for duty, ready for action, although a little worked up with the extra prep work. Didn't even have the time to think on his age old problem, not even for a moment.<br><br>Immediately after Caesar appears, Giz approached him, making sure only he could hear him, "Got a problem, sir. Juliet's been locked up nice and tight by Daddy Capulet this time. Want me to crack the locks open, sir?"<br><br>He knew he would be in trouble, but he didn't care anyhow. Having the thing as their support and transport was better than walking around with nothing between them and a horde of bogeys.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 13:12:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>The locker room buzzed with activity as the marines geared up, checked and re-checked their gear. Rome yanked open the door to his assigned locker and began donning his gear. <br><br>He had already dressed in the marine BDUs which use high-temperature dyes designed to absorb infrared radiation at different frequencies, effectively breaking up the wearer’s IR signature. His M3 combat boots consisted of a leather upper with a synthetic sole incorporating several layers of resin-bonded flexible Venlar micromesh to protect against boot sole penetration. <br><br>Rome grabbed the pair of armored greaves and vambrace set and quickly slipped them over his shins and forearms respectively, fastening the snuggly over his BDUs. He retrieved his M12 pattern Advanced Personal Armor from the locker, climbed in through the armor's side opening and then snapped the side straps shut. To test the fit, Rome began routine maneuvering checks, raising his arms, twisting and stretching, mimicking the movements he knew he would make or need to make during combat. It was a good, tight fit which covered all the vital organs without limiting his range of motion. <br><br>Next, he grabbed the M56 battle harness, lifted it over his head and slid into it, letting it slide down over his M12 APA before cinching the straps at the sides and shoulders nice and tight. He double checked the quick release fasteners located at either corner at the top of the battle harness’s blackened breastplate. His blood type, O positive, was stenciled in red at the top left corner of the breastplate. Painted in white at center mass was a particularly creepy looking Death’s Head design with the word ‘Minister’ painted above and ‘of Death’ below.<br><br>He grabbed the head mounted sighting system with the advanced E5 targeting lens and his M-111 helmet. He slipped on the HMS and adjusted for comfort, adjusted the boom mic angle then plugged the E5’s output connector into the port located at the right interior of the battle harness’s breastplate. Glancing over to Widow who was also gearing up, he stepped towards her and then turned so that his back was facing her. <strong>“Widow, plug me in?”</strong> The cable to his communications system dangled loosely behind his shoulder. He heard the pop and crackle of the comms system as they were plugged in and nodded to Widow.<br><br>Reaching into the locker once again, he grabbed his BiMex, polarized protective eyewear with non-reflective surface to protect against possible laser or, God forbid, nuclear flash. He slipped the shades on, grabbed his helmet and headed for the weapons locker to retrieve his frag grenades, ammunition drums and his beloved M56 which he affectionately called ‘Sexy’, though crudely scrawled along the length of the feed cover was the weapons full name, ‘Sexy Beast.’<br><br>He quickly clipped grenades to his web gear or stowed them in grenade pouches, grabbed an ammo belt with extra drums from his weapon and then mounted the M56’s mounting bracket into the combat harness’s arm mount. Reaching underneath the mounting bracket, Rome grabbed the coaxial cable power connector and plugged into the processor and power outlets located in the battle harness's breastplate. Painted onto either side of the frame of the stabilized articulation arm where the gun itself is clipped and secured are a pair of hatefilled, glaring red eyes and a fearsome, gaping jaw filled with jagged rows of teeth.<br><br>Rome noted the addition of the motion tracker view screen mounted on the right side of the M56 just ahead of the cocking handle. He flipped the thumb toggle switch Gizmo had installed near the rear handle and smiled wickedly as the motion tracker screen barked and strobed to life<strong>“ ‘Attta boy Gizmo. Fuckin’ badass!”</strong> He looked to Widow again and gestured to the motion tracker view screen. <strong>"That motherfucker works fast! Check this shit out!"</strong><br><br>After showing off the new side mounted motion tracker for a few seconds, he finally grabbed a couple of spare DV9 batteries stuffing them into an over sized cargo pocket, fastened his ammo belt, grabbed his helmet, and hauled ass to Bay 1. <br><br>As Rome entered Bay, pulling on his leather combat gloves, he noticed that nearly everyone else was already in formation so he hurried his pace a bit. <strong>"Never fear, Rome is hear! Line the fuckers up and I'll mow 'em down. Ain't that right Sexy?"</strong> He brought the M56 up to his face and planted a kiss on the barrel. <strong>"Hell yeah. Let's kick some ass! Where we headed Sarge?"</strong><br><br>As he passed by Gizmo, he gave him a wink and thumbs up before gesturing to the new motion tracker view screen mounted on the M56.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 13:43:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>In the cryo chamber I undressed and this time wiped down with a towel moistened with a lubricating agent. The suit I had been assigned for combat environments was experimental although MegaTech was negotiating a contract with Weyland-Yutani to issue it as standard to all female synthetics assigned to USMC support tasks.<br><br>The cloned skin covering my musculature had been designed to grow human hair only on the scalp and face for reasons of appearance and merging with humans. It had transpired that bald synthetics upset some people even more. Early models used nylon carbon coiled hair. It was acceptable from a distance but failed under close inspection and since it was not alive and continually protected by body oils it quickly deteriorated. Live hair is unnecessary for a synthetic elsewhere therefore the remainder of my skin was DNA encoded not to grow hair and even hair follicle structures were suppressed from the code.<br><br>My skin was easy to manufacture but being completely hairless, dressing in tight clothing was a problem the skin design team had not foreseen. I carried a lubricating scrub that I coated everywhere and normally for reasons of unit morale and efficiency selected times when I was alone to do this.<br><br>The suit was a one piece skin fitting coverall in dull urban grey with darker armoured panels protecting the vitals with double skinned pressure pads containing an intelligent reactive compound to protect shins, knees, elbows and other extremities. I zippered it up and adjusted the equipment bandoliers at the waist. Boots came next.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo-10.jpg)<br><br>My personality showed in my choice of outer cover. The long trench coat style appeared to be cumbersome and restrictive. In fact made of a flexible poly carbonate mesh and coated with a synthetic representation of leather forty microns thick the coat weighed only one point four kilos and its loose folds acted as a first line of defence, the high collar protected my vital spinal assembly from heat and particle splash and the loose fit functioned as a form of spaced armour that would deform and reduce the kinetic energy of projectiles and other physical blows.<br><br>http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo_17.jpg (http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo_17.jpg)<br><br>http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo_15.jpg (http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo_15.jpg)<br><br>http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo_16.jpg (http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo_16.jpg)<br><br>But my main reason for wearing it was I liked the style.<br><br>MegaTech body shells do not require helmets. We have radio comms equipment and cameras built in as standard and our passive carbon mesh gapped skull structures are stronger than the standard issue M111.<br><br>I closed my locker and went down to the locker room where noise and activity indicated the platoon was kitting up. From my cabinet I retrieved the unmarked M41A, ran a brief check added ammunition clips to my belt and shouldered the rifle. Many of the marines named their weapons as soldiers have done for millennia whether they be tanks, bombers or triremes. A gun was a gun, mine carried no markings. The sergeant had his men lined up in the hangar beyond and was giving them a talk in his customary fashion, the tang of his cigar registering in my olfactory chambers. I avoided the group and worked quickly in the far recesses of the cavernous chamber. I had only one task here; to unpack, assemble and dry test the UC571-A sentry guns for which I was responsible.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_07.jpg)<br><br>I worked fast, unplugging the units from their cargo drums, setting up the sprung tripods and coupling on the gun mounts. I powered up both units and ran a system check. Ammunition was stored in the two additional cases. Four thousand rounds of 15mm carbon tipped HEAT, two thousand rounds per gun in five hundred round cylinders, each sufficient to tear a man to pieces and punch holes in anything up to a light battle tank or heavy APC. Once inside the rounds burst causing massive trauma to any living target and inside vehicles or aircraft the penetration caused the inner wall to spawl off flakes of material that the explosive sent flying around the crew compartment like red hot razor blades. It was a highly efficient weapon and could maintain fire lanes 600 metres deep across a 40 degree arc clear of enemies in combat. It was equally suited to urban use where the unit was best sited at intersections with its 360 degree scanners allowing it to sanitize up to a four way corridor or alley junction for up to 200 metres.<br><br>(http://www.inetres.com/gp/sf/aliens/sentry02.jpg)<br><br>Satisfied that the units were in order I armed them. The two barrels swung outboard rapidly with a low whine from their electro-servos. I retired away from the guns about ten metres and lifting a spare combat belt and bandolier from a locker, cast it across this end of the bay. Instantly both guns saw the target, identified it as hostile and the two barrels tracked it over a seventy degree range, the compressors that powered the ammunition cylinders shouting out a frightful whine that can only be conveyed as, <strong><em>WWHHH<span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">HRRRRRRRR</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">AAAAAANNN</span>NNN-NNN</em></strong>. The test target hit the far bulkhead and dropped to the floor. I observed both gun barrels drop a few degrees as the target fell then detecting no motion the laser sights disengaged and the twin barrels swung back to the assigned centreline.<br><br>http://www.propstore.com/content/propstorecollection/sentrygun/sentrygun.jpg (http://www.propstore.com/content/propstorecollection/sentrygun/sentrygun.jpg) <br><br>http://www.propstore.com/content/propstorecollection/sentrygun/sentrygun3.jpg (http://www.propstore.com/content/propstorecollection/sentrygun/sentrygun3.jpg) <br><br>Even without the ammunition cylinders the UC571-A's made an intense noise. Live firing was considerably more detrimental to the human eardrum, particularly in enclosed spaces. I looked around and saw that some of the marines were casually watching. I returned to the guns and disassembled them, crating them up and slinging my M41A, awaiting the Leftenant to arrive. I had another piece of information for him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 16:14:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer pulled open her gear locker and looked over the equipment inside, waiting for her. She smiled slightly as she pulled out the BDU dark green trousers and shirt, putting them on rapidly over her skivvies. They were pressed and dry, a strong contrast to what they had been a week ago. She smirked at the memory, pulling out her boots and knee and elbow pads, putting the pads on first and then crouching down to tie up her boots. She also took out smaller parts of her armor designed for the ankle area, and strapped them on and over the front top of her boots, twisting the velcro and secure locks as tight as she could, nice and snug.<br><br>After returning to a stand, Jennifer heard Rome talking to her, and looked over her shoulder as she yanked the M12 PAP Armor out of her locker. She zeroed in on the dangling communications plug-in, and reached back, turning slightly, and plugging the device into Rome's armor. She gave him couple of firm smacks on the shoulder and returned to her own gear, dropping the body armor down onto herself and going from top to bottom, fastening locks and yanking the front and rear velcro and lock connecting straps together, bringing the piece of armor covering her chest and the piece covering her back together. She applied some greaves to her forearms, and finally slid on some high tear resistance, water proof gloves.<br><br>Rome made some comments about his new weapon, and Jennifer casually took notice, looking at the set up and nodding in approval. "<strong>Impressive...</strong>" She commented, turning back to her other gear and picking up what she could. She filled up her various webbings with ammunition and her medical pack, checking it briefing to make sure she had enough supplies, which she did. Jennifer had filled it before they left Gateway, but just to make sure none of it had been damaged. Next was her motion tracker, which she retrieved from the top of her locker and flipped on, turning around and listening to the audiable pings and watching the dots, glancing up to check their accuracy. Working fine as usual, the screen was a little bit darker but the machine had been through a lot, and had saved her before. The final piece of her protective hardware was the M111 combat helmet, which she put on and hooked up with ease, the IR monocle was brand new, as was the communications hookup, but the helmets painted urban camouflage was clearly used, scrapes and a large scar across the top incidcated just how close Jennifer had come to being dead. The camera hookup was online, but she would need to wait to see if it was working.<br><br>Finally, the prize of her lockers keep. The M41A1 Pulse Rifle, her pride and joy. She'd pumped almost a full years salary into this baby, and it showed. Refinished with a dark green, dark grey and black breakup camouflage pattern, the dark urban, no shine finished rifle was a sight to behold. The only original parts were the front hand guard, firing system and the barrel. Everything else was modified, including the upper receiver and the stock, the trigger guard and grip were both refixed with a hard as hell to find line textured grip. The stock was a little longer and had an elevated cheek rest for the most expensive modification. A Weyland Yutani N1-A60 holographic rifle sight, the top of the line and effectively a 'special order only' piece of gear, but she'd managed to get her hands on one. It was a broad, plexiglass sight in which the frontal laser reflected a small green circle crosshair and center dot in accordance with how the shooter would view the optic, always aiming dead towards where the rifle was destined to be fired. A neat system indeed, and nearly permenant battery life. Supposidly it would live longer than Jennifer would.<br><br>With everything strapped on, she loaded her rifle and checked it, the sight turned on nicely and the ammo counter flashed 95. It was common practice to load for 95 instead of 99, the max, because 99 rounds tended to jam on fire more often in comparison to loading 95. She unloaded the magazine and dropped the chambered round back down, catching it and placing it into the magazinea gain. She did a final inspection and loaded again, flipping the safety on and slamming her locker shut. <br><br>She could feel her dogtags and the cartridge attached to the chain, bouncing between her breasts as she quickly ran to the line, turning around and facing the Sarge with her rifle close to her chest. She took notice of Senjo far off, working with the sentry guns. '<em>Fuckin' A...</em>' Jennifer thought, she'd seen what those badass guns did to both humans and xeno's, no fuckin' way she would leave home without at least one. After inspection, the squad moved to Bay 1 and again, with her rifle at her chest and pointed safely away, Jennifer was at attention and waiting for the bad news of 'rescue mission' or 'sweep and clear'. Neither were appealing; one you had to deal with whiny fucking colonists, and the other you got to deal with a shit load of bad guys. She grinned at the Sarge's comments, and before the Lieutenant arrived Jennifer piped up. "<strong>Ooh-RAH Master Sergeant!</strong>"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>21-05-2010, 19:07:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After a few minutes FATHER spoke up, his voice transmitted through the speaker systems all around the ship. “1st Squad is to board drop ship for planet fall, I repeat 1st Squad board drop ship for planet fall, drop ship departure in 5 minutes, any 1st squad members onboard the Mitchum after drop ship departure without authorization are subject to military tribunal.”<br><br>As he said this, the ramp inside the drop ship slowly descended until it was fully open, several seats could be seen bolted to the side wall of the transport. This drop ship having been refitted for a non-APC based planet fall. “You are now clear to board” FATHER’s voice intoned as the ramp lay open to the marines. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 00:07:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i247.photobucket.com/albums/gg157/onilobo/halo3odst.jpg)</div><strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br><em>God damn I love this fucking armor!</em> My hands worked with surgical precision as I tightened, latched and snapped the armor across my large frame. It had taken me lots of practice but I could get fully suited in less than thee minutes but today I wanted to make sure everything was properly in place for today's drop. If things went sour I would not be taking this suit off for upwards to a week or longer depending on what the situation was down on that planet. <br><br>The only customizations I had ever done to M190 KPBA were aesthetic, a Skull and cross bones covered the chest plate and a skull had been painted onto the outer rims of my helmet making sure it did not cover the polarized shield.&nbsp; Running down the right arm I had the words "You are only a man" etched in and painted red, a reminder to keep my ass humble no matter what my rank or successes brought me. <br><br>With my armor in place and a few stretches to make sure everything was in good condition I hung the rest of my gear on the various compartments my armor offered before I picked up my M33 I had nicked named "Triple V". I held it for a moment like a man would hold his women, gentle but with a commanding authority before I strapped it to the back of my right shoulder blade as if it was a medieval sword. My steps were heavy as I walked down towards Bay 1, the armor felt light to me but not to floor below. <br><strong><br>"Every time you ask that Rome I always tell you the same thing...we are going to hell motherfucker so I hope you brought enough ice water!" </strong><br>The polarized shield shimmered clear to reveal the smirk on my face as I walked past my line. It might not have appeared that I was inspecting them for any mistakes but i was, finding none I walked up the ramp into the drop ship. I stopped at the end, passing each empty seat which would soon be filled with the asses of my unit and turned. I found the indented dips in the floor and filled each one with a plated boot to stabilize me. I don't strap into a seat on a drop, I'd rather stand and this rarely used option is normally ignored by other CO's. Once they had shuffled in and settle down I called for their attention. <br><strong>"As you all know we are going down on that rock, Intel is scarce except for we have seen no signs of movement and activity since we arrived. We are not sure what we are dropping down into. To make matters worse an unknown facility has popped up out of nowhere which leads the brains to think we might have some sort of colonist rebellion on our hands. Our mission is to find out what is going on down there both at the colony and at that unknown facility. If they wanted to talk diplomacy then they would have sent some college boys. Once we land we are going to get a little back up a few hours later from a sister ship....Daddy is going to give you all some siblings so you all better learn to share and get along with one another, Capiche?" </strong><br><br>I had talked enough we would learn more with every passing moment we spent on the surface, I knew that whatever was down there we could handle. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 03:08:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The Leftenant appeared and did the loud-voiced stern masculine thing that leaders do. I heard it, I understood it, I knew that throughout history leaders had sharpened their soldiers minds and hearts with words before they met the enemy. I <em>knew</em> that the troops under a leader's command would respond more enthusiastically because of words - words of empowerment - given to them before battle but I still puzzled over why this was. It was a tribal thing, a savage thing even, primitive and dark. Those considerations led me onwards to mental examinations of killing, the right to kill, the right to defend one's self from being killed, the will to fight and fight with elan. I often, as a supportive tool to the soldiers I worked with, spent time examining such things. The answers were in men's hearts, not in their minds.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_08.jpg)<br><br>I strode up the loading ramp of the dropship and stowed the heavy cargo drums of the sentry guns and the two bulky 'hard bags' the ammunition cylinders were stacked in. Everything had it's place. I clipped the gear securely home into recesses to ensure nothing flew adrift if we encountered turbulence or enemy fire. In my mind I had put aside the practical eventuality of enemy fire. The evidence from the scans did not support scenarios in which we would take fire during the drop. If there were hostile elements planetside my conclusion was we would be facing a hostage scenario or a colony in rebellion. The military hardware and defence capabilities of Weyland-Yutani colonies were limited. The Provost of the standard outpost under which classification LV-1875 fell had a squad of six deputies under his authority and an armoury of four M155 sub-machine pistols, four M33 combat shotguns and ten M4A3 pistols. Unless any rebels had brought additional arms with them when colonising - which was an unlikely scenario - then the fire power in their hands compared to that which Leftenant Mengsk could deploy should result in a rapid resolution of the situation, whether he chose to negotiate or use the troops he had just motivated in the manner to which they were trained.<br><br><strong>"Sir,"</strong> I said to the Leftenant as I prepared to take my stall in the ship, <strong>"The communications channel I opened upon entering orbit has not been responded to. The back up transmitter is four hundred metres distant from the main antenna in these installations - my conclusion is the lack of a response is above an eighty-seven percentile chance that both means of communications have been disrupted by natural hazards. I can draw no other conclusions. The intact colony structure rules out volcanic or tectonic activity. A debilitating disease or a scenario involving a rebellious element within the outpost are my conclusions."</strong><br><br>I connected to the dropship computer and for the benefit of an in-drop briefing uploaded the colony structure schematics I had downloaded earlier, including the visible-range images of the unknown structure and its surrounding earthworks. I sat back and buckled up.<br><br><em>A tribal thing, a savage thing. The right to defend one's self from being killed. The answers are in men's hearts.</em><br><br>I closed my eyes.<br><br><em>"The difference between you Senj, and those you will work with lies here-"</em> Doctor Korleinovitch had said with a smile, proudly tapping my forehead, <em>"There is no man or woman on Earth who can match what you can do with your mind. However-"</em> his hand had moved lower and pressed against my chest, <em>"Beware of what men have here. I can teach you much. I can teach you more than I know myself, but I cannot open to you the mysteries of men's hearts."</em><br><br><em>"Your job is to serve men..."</em><br><br><em>"Your journey is to understand them..."</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 06:15:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"All right! You heard the man! Load up your gear! Combat seating! On the double!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 08:38:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the marines began to board the drop ship FATHER dutifully, counted down the time till departure, announcing as each minute passed. At the two minute mark the drop ship's engines began to run, a loud whine filled the hangar bay as the ship prepared to depart from the belly of the USS Mitchum. As the final seconds passed by FATHER said, in his ever consistent monotone voice "All preparations for planet fall are now complete. Initializing combat drop." <br><br><br>The ramp into the drop ship slowly closed and the drop ship's pilot's voice came loud and clear over the speakers "All right ladies and gents....lets do this!" The drop ship was slowly lowered down by it's docking arm. FATHER opened the belly of the Mitchum, "Prepare for docking release in T minus 5....4.....3.....2.....1......Release!" the pilot called out, the drop ship gave a hard lurch as it pulled away from it's docking harness and began to move under it's own power. Flying smoothly for a few seconds before it hit atmosphere. "The atmo's a bit thick on this world! It's gonna be one helluva ride!" the pilot called out his voice betraying his excitement and obvious adrenalin high. <br><br><br>A second later the craft began to shake, first only slightly almost imperceptibly so, but after 30 seconds it was almost as if the drop ship was jumping around in midair, jerking from left to right, up to down, and ever direction in between. The drop ship's hull could be heard groaning under the stress of breaking through LV-1875's atmosphere. As it moved closer and closer to the planet's surface its trajectory began to change. The pilot did his best to keep the change as unnoticeable as possible. Just like he had been trained to, ideally the marines' bodies wouldn't even notice that they had stopped 'falling' and were moving on a horizontal path until it had already happened. The shaking seemed to get worse and worse as the ride went on until finally three minutes later the shaking gave way to a sudden stillness "Now THAT was fun!" the pilot called out. Grinning as he did "Alright I'm bringing her in to the LZ that you indicated lieutenant it shouldn't be more than a minute now......once you've disembarked I'll fly a holding patter for 3 hours then head back up to the Mitchum for refueling." The pilot was a Captain and as far as he was concerned he didn't need to follow some ground pounder's schedule. "if you need evac or fire support at any time just give me a call."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 10:39:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>Deployment. At last, they were in the red and speeding their way to their objective. The time for chuckles and chatter was over, for now. Keeping his game face on, Gizmo fumbled around his belt, strapped into the seat snugly to keep him from flying all over the compartment, and pulled out that picture, that one photograph of four faces from the past. He stared at it, his view of the mix of teenagers and kids bouncing around with him in a blur of motion, but it did not impair his vision much to make his intention any more difficult. With every sortie, he had made sure that he looked at this photograph at least once, as a reminder of why he was out here, why he did what he did and why had to make it back in one piece.<br><br>From right to left. Raymond, 20, Chelsea, 19, Jasper, 15, and Sheryl, 21, all when the picture was taken. The four remaining siblings of his family, enjoying a BBQ. This picture was a vacation photo, taken when they last went to the beach together, at least 8 years ago. He remembered those times vividly. He had only just managed to take leave from the academy to bring them over to the late Aunt Sally's summer beach house back home. The beat of the blazing sun, the soft white sand, the gentle blue sea, the cool clean air, the laughter, the games. All good memories compared to the bad dreams he always had. Every now and then, those days came back to him but those times were always so rare whenever he closed his eyes to sleep. He felt like he could smile a lot more if he just looked at this picture and imagined what life could have been like before the army. He could have just led a good life by getting a good paying job instead of committing himself to computers all day. That way, he could have spared his siblings from the pain when their eldest brother had to be drafted into the Corps, their only bread maker ever since father died. Nonetheless, Ray and Sheryl were done with college by now and probably had stable jobs to keep the family going. Coupled with the hazard pay he always sends home, they should be fine on their own. The Laws were never a family to give up easily, a resolve born from years of hardship and survival.<br><br><em>Take care of yourselves, kids.... Brother Gizzy's got a job to do....</em><br><br>Tucking it back into his belt, he settled himself back into his seat, grabbing onto the rails to steady himself from rocking around too much. Unlike some of the other marines, he was relatively smaller than most of the men. He was even shorter than Senjo by a head. It didn't help his ego much to be 5'6" but it had its advantages. Small means smaller target, making it much easier for him to do what needs to be done. His attention turned to the all the equipment stowed away in all the racks and hatches. They were suited and armed to the teeth, as usual. Every sortie was like this, stuffed to the brim full of guns and ammunition. Each weapon had their own characteristics. Each weapon personalized to the needs and wants of every marine present. For Gizmo, the M33 shotgun was what he was stuck with, which he customized with a home made muzzle recoil suppressor, made from an altered smartgun muzzle. Instead of the loud bang one would normally get, his gun barked like a mangy dog with as minimum flash and kick back as feasibly possible for the frame. He did not have the strength or the accuracy to handle a standard issue M41A pulse rifle. Not that he could not handle it at all, only unable to handle it properly. He always had problems with recoil with most weapons, the kicking of the thing digs hard into his shoulder even after bracing, spreading his aim all over the place, which could 'endanger the lives of his squadmates' according to the record. It was a wound this marine had to live with in ridicule, constantly having salt poured all over it at random times. This was why he was not a valuable asset in a fight. It was only his skills as a techie and demo man that made him shine. He knew the others realized that so he tried his best to stick close to them, for them give him a bit of support while he worked his magic hands. He remembered that time when he stuck close to Rome, working on opening a door while he mowed down quite few terrorists with that 'Sexy Beast' of his. For that op, he owed the man his life, which he returned in kind by shutting down and emergency clamping an elevator that was dropping down on top of him. Another time, Reaper and Widow were covering him from incoming fire while he worked on closing a bulkhead door. Took a stray bullet but they pulled through. He even made sure the corridor stayed closed with a few well placed explosives in a corridor, sealing off that angle of approach easy. Another time, he worked with Yui saturating a room with det charges and her flamethrower. So many other times, he had stuck with someone or two.<br><br>Speaking of which, he checked for his trusty high explosive devices he was responsible for. He found them where he stowed them, the fist sized cuboid charges tucked into his combat belt, cleaned and ready to be primed for their one time use. All he needed was to pull the pin, flip the switch under the hood and confirm the detonation with a push of a button on the detonator, or set a timer if the situation called for it. He had enough of them to turn a bunker inside out, only being a few pounds each. Waterproof, electrical fuse, dry or sticky suction deployment, high explosive/incendiary capability by swapping out the charges. Each can be diffused with a push of a button or if you had a lot of skill, manually. Wasteful use was not recommended, as he knew that what he had would be in limited supply. It wasn't often that he could make IEDs on the field as replacements. They took way too much time.<br><br>It was comforting to know that they at least would have a bit of backup. The anxiety of them going first would have been dulled out some if only he knew what they were up against...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sanai</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 12:12:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Reaper sat in his berth on the dropship, looking over all of his squadmates.<br>Widow, a marine after his own "heart". Reaper enjoyed practicing marksmanship with her, and respected her astute tactical mind. While he never admitted it, he always saw a lighter side in being wounded, as it would mean being administered to by her, the squad corpsman.<br>Gizmo, one that Reaper saw as a liability most of the time, due to him not being a model soldier. He respected Gizmo's tech savvy however, and always did what he could to protect him.<br>Sarge, his immediate superior. A good squad leader, one that Reaper so far had trusted not to get them all killed.<br>Rome, a highly effective soldier. While his brash sarcasm grated on Reaper somewhat, he was grateful for Rome's prescense in any mission.<br>Private Yui, the resident pyro. Reaper had not gotten to know her well as yet, and as such did not yet trust her.<br>Senjo, the synthetic. To Reaper, she was merely a machine, a thing, but a useful one at that. He did not trust the company as far as he could throw it, so he always kept a good eye on the synthetic.<br>As he mused about his squadmates, he wondered how many would survive. In the end, he thought, it was worthless worrying about it, all he could do was try to make the right decisions and stay frosty.<br>Then, he looked over at Widow, catching her eye, and tapping himself on the shoulder twice, where he had taken a bullet in an artery once, a wound which Widow had patched up.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 23:51:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer boarded the dropship on the Lieutenant's lead, quickly sitting down closest to the ramp and strapping in. She secured her M41A1 beside her and strapped her helmet on as the ramp closed up. She closed her eyes and laid her head back against her seat rest. The dropship's engines were loud as they started, and Jennifer opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, her heart rate jumped up as she knew the next step was the inevitable fall to the planet atmosphere. The mood in the dropship, from her standpoint, was obviously tense if hard to read. She knew each of the Marines in this dropship were capable and skilled in their own rights, and as a unit they were as proficient and deadly as any other, but even the best had that tinge of fear before the drop. That little feeling in the back of your mind that 'this is it', today would be that day when you dropped down and never came back.<br><br>But you never said that, not even a word. The trust between teammates was enough to make one ignore those feelings, and Jennifer felt the same feeling. She knew each Marine around her could both save her life and trust her to do the same. At least that put her in a sense of ease. The dropship suddenly lurched and shook free of the ship, and Jennifer increased the grip she had on her arm rests, staring at the ceiling but feeling overall calm as the dropship seemed to even out and finally hit the atmosphere. The shaking actually made her a bit tired, and she closed her eyes and let her head sit against the large secure restraints holding her in her seat as the dropship shook about, but she remained awake until the whole ordeal was over and the dropship entered atmo. <br><br>Jennifer opened her eyes and immediately looked at Reaper, looking at her and tapping his shoulder. She smiled and gave him a thumbs up; she knew what he meant and hoped her services wouldn't be needed on this mission, but that was pure wishful thinking.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 00:29:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>Alone of all non-debilitating physical trauma and physical stresses and impacts, the sensation of freefall has an effect on me. The manufactured 'blood' that pumps through my system is thinner in consistency than human blood. In freefall it rushes up into my head to the extent that I sense the pressure and experience a slight dizziness and aggravated buzzing and clicking in the tubes of my ears. Drops comprise an extended or attenuated period of freefall for a variety of factors - planet mass, orbital altitude, weather systems, geography, tactical considerations. An extended freefall can make me nauseous, a fact I keep to myself. If the marines of my unit found out I suffered such a weakness I do not doubt some would react negatively or voice concerns about my reliability.<br><br>When the ship dropped I leaned forward and rested my head in my palms, my hands being on my knees, something civilian aviation safety specialists called the crash posture, though I did not quite put my head between my knees and place my hands on my neck. Keeping my head in a downwards facing aspect reduced the dizziness and nausea.<br><br>Within thirty seconds the Cheyenne dropship had hit the atmosphere of planetoid LV-1875 and the UD-4L entered a more horizontal flight attitude. I sat upright and stared expressionlessly ahead letting the buffets of air turbulence run through my frame. I passed the time to the DZ by trying to calculate the force of the storm by accounting for the roll, pitch and yaw of the Cheyenne against its weight.<br><br>It was a severe storm, with wind speeds in excess of ninety knots and numerous low pressure pockets the dropship would lurch into. Typical features of a young atmosphere.<br><br>Another reason I refrained from making eye contact during the drop was that in past drops with Kilo Platoon I had taken up the same posture. It was predictable that the joke quickly went around the marines that the 'synth is kissing her ass goodbye'.<br><br>The ship possessed no ventral portholes, it was an outer-orbital craft and hull integrity was a vital consideration. Around the Leftenant's command seat a bank of monitors gave external views from cameras. As we descended out of the clouds a dark windswept landscape was revealed with many large outcrops of rock, the horizon being occluded by the mist and swirled rain clouds.<br><br>The engine note climbed, the nose pitched higher and the pilot brought us to a hover before reducing pitch and settling down to a heavy landing on what felt like a slight left-downward slope.<br><br>I unbuckled and readied my pulse rifle.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_09.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_10.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_11.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_12.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_14.jpg)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 03:44:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"All right, Marines! Listen up! We're going in as one unit until we can assess the situation.&nbsp; For smaller scale operation, we're separating into two teams.&nbsp; Gizmo, Reaper, and Senjo are with the Lieutenant in Alpha Team.&nbsp; Your job is to set up a base of operation and fallback point.&nbsp; The rest of you are with me in Bravo Team.&nbsp; Our job is to scout ahead and make first contact.&nbsp; We clear?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 08:02:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>Rome plugged a fresh DV9 battery into both ends of the power leads running from the articulation arm to the smart gun. His weapon hummed to life and he pulled the HMS into position to test the infrared tracking system and the targeting view in his viewport.&nbsp; <br><br>The IR tracker itself consisted of a 256 x 256 element Platinum-Silicide focal plane array cooled to 77°K by a tiny cryogenic gas-cooler working on the Stirling principle. The system works by monitoring a 30° cone in front of the gun and transmits high resolution thermal images in the 8-10 µm range to the HMS viewport.<br><br>Rome swung the unloaded M56 away from the squad’s formation towards Senjo and immediately noted that the lighted rectangle on the view screen overlaid pefectly over her center mass. The articulation arm instantly steered the gun to aim at the indicated target sight. The target light circle&nbsp; lit up brightly indicating that the target was bore-sighted. Rome smiled wickedly and looked to Zippo standing next to him, <strong>“She’s just a scrap heap and spare parts now.”</strong> He chuckled as he swung the M56 back to its rest position. <strong>“What are we gonna tell Ma and Pa Robot?”</strong><br><br>Only after he had double checked the safety switch to ensure it was in the safe position, Rome grabbed an ammo drum and loaded it into the guns’ feed mechanism, grabbed the cocking handle and yanked it back. He promptly released the cocking handle and let it slam forward, loading the first round into the chamber.<br><br>Each ammo drum contained 500 rounds of M250 10mm x 28, 230 grain, caseless projectiles encased in a rectangular block of nitramine and stored on a roll of continuous plastic, non-disintegrating link belt. The M250 ammunition's selectable fuse setting allows the operator to choose how the ammunition will function and is determined by a switch on the weapons’ hand grip. After selecting the fuse setting, the fuse is set electronically as the round is loaded into the chamber. The two settings are ‘Super,’ which is optimized against soft targets and will detonate the round upon impact, and ‘Delay’, which explodes the shell only after penetrating the target’s armor.<br><br>Loaded for bear, Rome clambered up the Cheyenne’s loading ramp and took his seat opposite Widow, swinging his weapon into the vertical rest position along his left side. He pulled the safety bar down over his large, 6’3” 247 pound muscular frame until it made the distinctive ‘CLICK’ indicating it was in the locked position. The rest of squad loaded and took their seats, the loading ramp closed, and the launch procedures began. The UD-4 was lowered by its docking arm into the launch bay airlock and the countdown began. <br><br>Rome hated this part. Although he would die before he would ever admit it, Rome knew fear. Being fastened to a seat inside of a dropship as it plummets towards planet-side, completely helpless and unable to do anything with all of that intense training and all of those fearsome weapons until you safely land, your life is essentially in the hands of some Aerospace flyboy whom you may or may not know. Rome took a deep breath and pressed his head back into the head rest.<br><br>The countdown completed and the ship lurched beginning to shake almost immediately, increasing in intensity over several minutes. Rome began his mid-drop routine of quoting his own distorted version of a bible verse found in Revelations. It was his way of psyching himself up for whatever might await them once the drop ship doors opened and they deployed. It was also his way of distracting himself from the sense of helplessness and fear he experienced from during the drop. He spoke loudly and slowly so that his voice would carry over the whining, roaring engines of the UD-4. He almost sounded reverent.<br><strong><br>“And they looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given to them over ALL THE OTHER MOTHERFUCKERS, to kill with their guns, and with flame, and with grenades, and with knives, and with their bare-fucking-hands! OOH-RAH!!”</strong><br><br>The ship entered the atmosphere and leveled off, correcting its course and headed for the pre-determined LZ. Rome’s breathing became more labored after his little self-motivating speech and he had a dangerous look in his eyes. <br><br>The pilot announced over the intercom system, <strong>“ETA ‘til touchdown – 30 seconds…”</strong> The safety bars unlocked and swung open locking into place overhead. Rome lunged to his feat and moved into his dispersal position in line with the other Marines, gripping the hand grips of his M56 tightly. He glanced to the Sarge as he gave deployment instructions and team assignments. <br><strong><br>"All right, Marines! Listen up! We're going in as one unit until we can assess the situation.&nbsp; For smaller scale operation, we're separating into two teams.&nbsp; Gizmo, Reaper, and Senjo are with the Lieutenant in Alpha Team.&nbsp; Your job is to set up a base of operation and fallback point.&nbsp; The rest of you are with me in Bravo Team.&nbsp; Our job is to scout ahead and make first contact. We clear?"</strong><br><br>He answered in unison with the rest of his squad, “OOH-RAH, MASTER SERGEANT!” The drop ship touched down and the loading ramp dropped open and Rome filed out, taking up position as they had trained and executed in countless missions.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 12:03:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>As soon as Gizmo skedaddled out of the open ramp and took tactical spacing to cover the rear west flank, the first thing that assaulted him was the smell. Wasn't completely explainable from the mere whiff of it, but it attacked his nostrils like a tsunami of stale and musty water. The terraformed atmosphere was breathable, as Senjo had pointed out, but nothing like a normal planet as it should be, more like breathing in the artificial air one would get from recycled oxygen tanks.<br><br>As any marine would do, he ignored the aroma, and instead concentrated on looking out into the landscape with his shotgun trained with stock resting on his shoulder, body low, legs bent, eyes alert for anything coming straight at them. His sense of sight took over, being one of the sharpest among all of his comrades, scanning with his peripherals for any potential threats. The landscape looked barren, rocky and desolate. No trees in immediate sight, maybe a spot of terraforming algae and brush all over. No wildlife in the spotlight either. No humans. No insects. A very different place than the thick jungle on that fateful day, dead and virtually lifeless. It did not stop him, neither did it make him blink. The environment only posed a tactical and strategic element when he was in this mode. Althought not the best, he was a soldier after all.<br><br>Subconsciously, his eyes searched for something, anything out of the ordinary, specifically anything misty or out of place. A shadow, a flutter, a dust devil, a shimmer, anything. He suddenly felt a small sense of panic causing him to shiver slightly, only for a second, before his condition returned to normal as he rationalized with himself. There was no way those 'things' could be here. Only a thirty two percentile from the info he was given by Colonel Hayes, reviewed on his personal computer countless times. It was lower than the original estimates, since this place was so empty and cold, and 'they' were attracted to neither. 'They' wouldn't even think of coming here, would 'they'?<br><br><em>The last time I thought that, someone had to pay for it.....</em><br><br><em>No! Concentrate, Giz! 'They' won't be here! The Colonel said so.... Trust his word....</em><br><br>"Rear west flank clear!" He called out, reporting his side as ordinary, backing up slightly to be within earshot range of their sergeant. After hearing his orders, he stuck close to his designated team mates, close enough for them to cover each other, away enough for them to employ tactical movement without him in the way. He turned to the Sarge briefly, making sure his attention was out where it should be, "Loud and clear, sir. Ready when you are."<br><br>He kept his guard up. The area around them may be secure, but everywhere else was not. It wouldn't be until they made sure that their surroundings were clear that he would drop his shotgun barrel from ready position.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 14:40:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The UC571-As were simultaneously a blessing and a hindrance. First they were extremely bulky and heavy. Each gun in the carry-drum weighed 35 kilos. The drums were broad deep carbon fibre cases with internal stress bars, carry handles and shoulder straps. Remove the military stencils and they would look deceptively like olive drab civilian luggage. The eight 500-round ammunition cylinders were another 5 kilos each. These were stuffed into two hard bags that slung over each shoulder crosswise, like bandoliers. Giving the second one enough of a swing up and round and the intelligent Velcro seaming connected with the first to form a single centreline load on the back that was essential to be able to run and maintain balance. Together the two hard bags gave the wearer the appearance of a turtle carrying its shell. Without picking up the carry-drums, my ability to move quickly and quietly and take cover behind anything smaller than a one-seater speeder was compromised. I lugged the gun drums in each hand, my pulse rifle was around my neck and secured with a clip to a D ring of my coverall, but until I could dispense my load I was, in terms of usefulness to the squad, unarmed as well as a big target.<br><br>The other negative was that the guns took over three minutes to deploy, load and arm. They needed to be sited in tactically useful positions. A poor field of fire could leave dead ground for approaching hostiles to exploit. There were accounts of marine platoons being overrun despite having a perimeter hardened by UC571-As but which were poorly sited. In addition they were a fully defensive weapon. Until our platoon secured a perimeter and set up a base of operations the sentries were almost useless and served only to slow me down and take away one pulse rifle from the firepower of the squad.<br><br>The blessings of the guns, however I have already outlined. Would I go into action without them? No. Would I prefer the Corps to deploy them on a small tracked vehicle so they could be manoeuvred more easily and brought into action quicker? Yes. Did I believe that the C&amp;C M557 APC that would have carried them should have been deployed on this mission? That is a problematic question, one I could not answer. The tactical decisions were taken at levels above my authority. Looking at the broken terrain on the display monitors as it passed beneath us perhaps the APC would not have been a viable asset.<br><br>I listened to the tactical deployment orders from Sergeant O'Shay and stored them. Private Law I knew. Corporal Morden I had spent less time with. He seemed a cold person, distant though an excellent marksman. The Leftenant was solid. I noted the unbalance between the two teams. The decision precluded fire and move bounds by squads. The situation was still unknown however, we may not be called upon to fight at all.<br><br>(http://m.blog.hu/be/belterjnek/image/LV426/LV-426.PNG)<br><br>As the ramp lowered and the marines deployed I noted Private Law duck down to the left rear, covering the eight o'clock position. I took up a post in full defilade behind a large rock and faced out towards nine thirty on the clock face. The chemical soup of the young atmosphere was raw and I dialled down some of my olfactory decoders to stop them becoming a distraction. There was a stiff wind blowing, twenty to thirty knots from the south west - from the equator - with gusts up to forty knots. There was also a distracting light rain falling, little more than heavy mist droplets but the winds threw the precipitation horizontally, hampering visibility. I released the gun drums and took hold of my pulse rifle, swinging sideways around the rock to scan down a tumbling narrow <em>arroyo</em> or gully that ran downslope to our left. I remained still, fixing my neck tensioners in a lock and stabilizing vision, my in built motion tracker coming online at a one syllable mental request. I powered it off almost at once, the density of water droplets fogged the readout to the point it was practically without benefit. Observing the <em>arroyo</em> and the sides of the small valley I could detect no movement out to the three-hundred metre horizon.<br><br><strong>"West flank clear!"</strong> I called and maintained position.<br><br>I called up the surface scanning data and examined it again. The dropship had deployed us on a vector of 297 degrees - north west. The colony was ahead of us where I saw Lance Corporal Beneke moving with the smart gun. Behind us, behind the ship, to the left of Private Law's direction was the unknown structure. Both were approximately 2500 metres distant.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sanai</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 17:11:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the dropship touched down, reapers straps flew of as he unbuckled them, quickly moving, already at the ramp as it swung open. As he heard the sergeant's orders, he quickly eyeballed Gizmo and Senjo, before signalling to the LT. with his hand, ensuring that the officer remained on the dropship for a moment while the marines ensured the safety of the immediate surroundings. He then quickly stepped down the ramp, swinging his pulse rifle up to his shoulder, pointing it in a swinging arc as he surveyed the surroundings. He then quickly moved into a crouch atop part of a low rock, yet still covered somewhat by the rest of the rock formation. Hearing the synthetic yell that the west flank was clear, he quickly surveyed the other direction, looking for signs of movement. <br>"East appears clear, yet I wouldn't stake our lives on it in this terrain and weather!" Reaper shouted over the wind, assessing in his mind the fact he would have to protect a sentry-gun laden synthetic, an officer and... Gizmo. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 19:38:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				O'Shay grabbed his Pulse Rifle, screaming to move it.&nbsp; He crouched on one knee, sweeping the area, seeing it as clear.&nbsp; &nbsp; This was a fairly standard tactic in areas with little cover.&nbsp; "Hold this position.&nbsp; Unload all the gear and keep your weapons primed." "What's the plan, Lieutenant?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 22:01:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The immediate perimeter remained silent, there was no movement, if the rebels intended to attack it obviously wasn't going to happen now. As soon as the last marine was off the ramp, the drop ship's pilot spoke over the radio "I'm lifting off" he said firmly "I'll fly station for as long as I can before going back for refuel, once I do you'll be on your own for about 30 minutes" As soon as he finished saying this the ramp began to close, taking less than 10 seconds to do so. Another 3 seconds later the drop ship was in the air. Moving smoothly as it began to circle around the marines' position each circle larger than the one before. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>24-05-2010, 02:07:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Standing during the drop prevented me from showing signs of my very mild clithrophobia but it took me a few moments to recover from the vertigo after the shaking had stopped and the drop ship had stabilized. On the planet I unlatched my helmet and took a deep breath of the fake terraformed air, even if it was artificial it was much better than any air in a space ship. Kilo Squad was a well oiled machine, it practically ran itself which allowed me the time to inhale and exhale the musty water scent.<br><strong>"It ain't nothing like home...but I'd rather breath this than anything on board a ship..." </strong><br>I commented to no one in particular, before I was turning my eyes towards my computer to check our approximate location and any notable terrain high points around the colony I would want to utilize. It took me a few moments to mentally establish a path, one that would run us along the high ground as much as possible without falling victim to any sudden guys of winds. <br><strong>"We are going to establish our fall back point approximately 10 o'clock from the colony, unless my Intel is wrong it will give us a ridge to observe from. As far as I am concerned that other facility does not exist to us just yet. Bravo team advance, no radio signals until we are certain that we are not being watched or followed. That means each team will stay with hand signal range, let's move out I don't feel like talking out in the open like this all day." </strong><br>Pulling the helmet back on my head I pointed at reaper to lead Alpha team.<br><strong>"Reaper take point for Alpha, I'll watch our 6." </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>24-05-2010, 02:33:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>I pulled up my internal map of the terrain, found the likely high feature the Leftenant intended us to use in order to approach the colony enclosure and graphically highlighted on it's flank the best tactical approach line. A route on raised terrain but below the ridge protected from wind gusts and skylining - the bane of infantrymen throughout combat history. If Alpha team took a left rear position and Bravo a forward right the squad would advance in a loose double arrowhead formation.<br><br>I looked for Gizmo, nodded to him an 'after you' gesture and clipping down my rifle, picked up the two sentry gun drums and let him past me.<br><br><strong>"You watch the right front, I will cover our left."</strong> I moved out behind him, Leftenant Mengsk coving our tail.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>24-05-2010, 03:56:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Widow, take point.&nbsp; I'll follow you.&nbsp; Rome, behind me.&nbsp; Zippo, bring up the rear.&nbsp; Move out."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sanai</strong> on <strong>24-05-2010, 06:02:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Reaper immediatly took point, leading Alpha team forward cautiously, surveying the terrain ahead. He noted in his mind a raised route below the ridge, and lead the team towards it in a rear left position, for a textbook double arrow formation. <br><em>That Synthetic has probably beaten me too considering all of this</em> he thought, quickly eyeballing Alpha team to make sure no one was having any trouble.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>24-05-2010, 21:59:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the dropship landed, Jennifer lifted the restraint holding her in place and stood, cocking her M41A1 and flicking off the safety, she did a quick visual inspection of her rifle as the dropship set down, rocking gently while the wind swept landscape roughly knocked the dropship about on its desent. A long breath entered Jennifer's lungs as the bay ramp lowered, and she raised the pulse rifle up to a firing position, her eyes watching the ramp slowly lower, waiting until she knew she could get out.<br><br>Once there was enough space to get off, Jennifer quickly moved down the ramp, quickly checking her left and swinging around to her right, the rain made it hard to see and the wind did not help at all. A final turn to face the dropship and glance directly around it, walking backwards until she was a good ways away from the dropship. The rest of the squad was already filling outside, moving about to cover the various angles from where attack may come. Jennifer herself was situated the farthest away, crouching down in the open and looking around, with her back to the dropship, her eyes were filled with a bleak and harsh landscape, hardly fit for any life at all.<br><br>The motion tracker laying at her hip was turned off, harsh weather clouded the device's ability to detect anything larger then a bus 20 feet away. Visibility was bad, but not that bad. In the back of her mind, Jennifer was admittedly thinking that if indeed there were colonists, she doubted they were skilled enough to ambush them. But on the otherhand, Jennifer knew from experience that skill, nor age, could factor into a bullets lethality. Every threat was legitimate, even if it was way out there, thats why she still had a job after all. If any moron with a gun could deal with the shit she'd seen, everyone would be a Marine. The rain seemed to pick up for a moment before diminishing. The wind was making the rather light rain more dense than it normally would be. It sprinkled hard against her cheek, but she ignored it as drips of rain dropped down off the edge of her helmet in front of her eyes.<br><br><em>"Widow, take point.&nbsp; I'll follow you.&nbsp; Rome, behind me.&nbsp; Zippo, bring up the rear.&nbsp; Move out."</em> Jennifer heard the Master Sergeant holler from behind her, she glanced back to see everyone on the move, and stood up, shaking some water off the front edge of her helmet and turning around. "<strong>Aye aye Master Sergeant</strong>", Jennifer replied with a quick shout, waving her hands out in front of her ; signaling the squad to enter a column, the pulse rifling hanging from her neck. The column placed the squad in a relatively straight line, with Jennifer at the front long point and Zippo being the bottom long point, Sarge and Rome being in the middle. It allowed maximum coverage and fire to the front, should they be ambushed, but restricted coordinated movement to either the right or left. Nobody ever went in a straight line however, Jennifer was a trained pointman, and zig zagged frequently to make herself a less predictable target for a would-be ambush; from Jennifer's perspective backwards, no one should be on a straight path with her going forward.<br><br>She turned back around and moved out, glancing back to make sure Alpha was on track, waving to Reaper and tapping the top of her helmet and waving to her right, meaning she'd move off to the right and stay a little ahead of Alpha team, whom had both the synthetic and the platoon CO, better Bravo to hit any ambushes first. From her sights on her original recon, Jennifer speculated that a valley running adjacent would not block the path she intended to take, but for the most part she was walking blind. With her pulse rifle pressed firmly into her shoulder, Jennifer's eyes switched between her left, right, the ground in front of her and the horizon ahead. What a shit hole. <br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ReijiTabibito</strong> on <strong>24-05-2010, 22:12:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yui had gone through the food line with the rest of her squad – her nose wrinkled just a bit at the array of ‘standard’ Marine food that they were serving.&nbsp; Nutritious.&nbsp; Delicious.&nbsp; Right.&nbsp; Mud was probably better than this slop that the Corps was trying to pass off as real food.&nbsp; But, it was the only thing that they were reasonably going to get, so she took it.&nbsp; Sitting down at the table, she ate quietly, choosing not to engage in conversation.&nbsp; The flamethrower carrier for the squad was still a little disoriented from hypersleep – apparently younger persons felt the side-effects of it a little more acutely.<br><br>Once the food was done, Yui headed back over to her locker to check her gear before they headed to the dropship bay to head down to the planet.&nbsp; Opening her locker again, she checked the three pieces of equipment that she had contained in her locker – the last piece would come when she headed down to the bay.<br><br>The first piece was her backup weapon – the standard USCMC M41A pulse rifle.&nbsp; Hers was literally standard – just the rifle, no grenade launcher, no flamethrower, no nothing.&nbsp; Just a big gun with a whole lot of bullets.&nbsp; Taking the empty magazine out of her locker, she slapped it in to check the ammo counter.&nbsp; Yep.&nbsp; ’00.’&nbsp; That meant that it was working properly.&nbsp; Removing the clip, she checked the pull on the trigger.&nbsp; Nice and light, just how it had been before.&nbsp; Good.&nbsp; It seemed that that was operating normally.<br><br>Next was her peripheral – the XV-35 motion tracker.&nbsp; This one would be real quick.&nbsp; Flipping it on, the affirming beep that it gave, as well as the dots of several figures moving about nearby signaled that it was indeed working properly.&nbsp; Excellent.<br><br>Last was her primary weapon – the M240B flamethrower.&nbsp; Unfortunately, she couldn’t test the weapon completely here…but she could at least check the pilot light – that was the important part.&nbsp; And upon inspection, the pilot light did work.&nbsp; Alright.&nbsp; Good.&nbsp; Now to head downstairs and check her final piece.&nbsp; Gathering her stuff – the rifle, motion tracker, flamethrower, and ammunition bag, she headed down to the dropship bay.&nbsp; Arriving there, she found it waiting for her.<br><br>Stripping down to her panties and bra again, she stuffed the clothes into the ammunition bag’s spare pocket.&nbsp; Then she looked up at her armor – the Ape Suit.&nbsp; It was designed specifically to resist flame attacks, but hers had been treated with a special kit that made it resistant to nuclear, biological, and chemical attacks as well.&nbsp; In other words – damn good armor.&nbsp; The only real problem was that all that protection didn’t leave a lot of room for personal space.&nbsp; So it was fanservice for the boys whenever she got in or out of it.&nbsp; Opening up the armor, she climbed in, and closed it.<br><br>Once that was done, she picked up her stuff, and proceeded to the assembly in Bay 1.&nbsp; On command, Yui used the 240’s pilot light to light his cigar.&nbsp; Then came a speech from the LT, saying just why they were here, and what they were supposed to be doing.&nbsp; Pretty standard stuff that she’d heard before.&nbsp; After that, came the load onto the dropship to head down to the planet.&nbsp; On the way down, Yui reflected on each of her squad mates.<br><br>First was the LT, Tiberius Mengsk, but it was either LT, or Caesar, with him.&nbsp; To her, the LT had a switch inside him.&nbsp; Off duty, he was nice, charming even, he seemed close to a lot of the guys that she knew back home before her dad had made her join up with the Corps.&nbsp; When he was on the job, though…he could seem as cold and ruthless as the winter itself.&nbsp; She was glad for that, though – that had kept his people, her included, alive so far.<br><br>Next was the Sarge.&nbsp; The Sarge was old, but he was good, and in her opinion, a very capable second in command to the LT.&nbsp; Aside from one other, the Sarge was the one who knew her the best.&nbsp; He’d been the one to dub her ‘Jailbait,’ a name which he still used from time to time, when she first joined up, and then ‘Zippo’ when she’d shown her proficiency with the 240.&nbsp; <br><br>Then came Rome.&nbsp; Rome was…crude.&nbsp; Rude.&nbsp; And also scary as hell, if you were on the wrong end of him.&nbsp; Yui felt grateful that so far, she had not been on Rome’s wrong end.&nbsp; He was…a bit difficult to get along with, for her, but she was thankful that he was easily the most skilled smartgun operator she’d ever seen.<br><br>After that was Reaper.&nbsp; Reaper scared her.&nbsp; Period.&nbsp; She couldn’t deny that he was a good soldier, but the look in his eyes…it scared the hell out of her.&nbsp; At least for the LT, he seemed normal some of the time.&nbsp; But that look never left Reaper’s eyes, ever.<br><br>Then there was Widow.&nbsp; Widow was a girl to her…sort of.&nbsp; She’d gotten her name from breaking the noses of a bunch of male Marines.&nbsp; So, she was definitely a girl, but she didn’t seem like the girly-girl type that Yui herself was.&nbsp; Widow was the squad medic, so she was appreciated perhaps the most when she was needed.<br><br>After that was Senjo, the synthetic.&nbsp; Senjo was something of a mystery to her – the android had kept her distance from the squad, so Yui honestly didn’t know a whole lot about her.&nbsp; Not yet, anyway.&nbsp; Maybe this mission would change that.<br><br>Last was Gizmo, the tech head, who knew her just about as well as Sarge did.&nbsp; Yui liked Gizmo a lot, he broke the mold that Yui had seen in the squad.&nbsp; And the fact that he was more of a techspert than a soldier just helped that.&nbsp; Oh, sure, he could take care of himself, but he wasn’t on Rome’s or the Sarge’s level, so she had been assigned to protect his back a few times out on missions.<br><br>Soon enough, the dropship made planetfall, and everyone started to get off.&nbsp; Following them off, Yui took out a magazine for her pulse rifle – loaded it, the counter displaying ‘95’.&nbsp; Slinging it, she then took out a canister for her 240 and screwed it on.&nbsp; Checking the fuel indicator, it displayed full.&nbsp; Good.&nbsp; Everything seemed to be set.<br><br>Then came the orders – the group was to divide up into two groups, and move out.&nbsp; Hers was the rearguard of the Sarge’s group.&nbsp; As they moved out, walking along the ground, to pass the time, Yui started with the line of a song they had done a couple of times.<br><br><em>“Have gun, will travel reads the card of a man…”</em><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>24-05-2010, 22:19:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>Being paranoid had its advantages. Gizmo paid extra attention to his surroundings, constantly looking about to scan the horizon, keeping his eyes peeled and his ears open as much as he could for anything out of the ordinary. The wind, rain and general terrain was making it difficult for him to cover each opening effectively. Each tributary, each gaping crevice, each less than delicate trench of dirt and stone looked as if buzzing with activity from tiny invisible life forms, calling out mockingly to him, flashing him winks and maniacally laughing after whipping back into cover. Wild geese the whole lot of them. Sediment, loose pebbles, condensation, steam, the whistling of the wind. He would have to throw all of these out to humanly notice even the slightest of change. He was also only dry a few seconds ago. Now he was soaking wet. If he had known about today's forecast, he could have put on his raincoat.<br><br>He looked over at Senjo as she approached and did not bother to waste his breath over the howlings of the wind, giving her a more universal signal of understanding in the form of a visible nod and a light pat on her shoulder. It was his response to the incident in the mess deck, along with a general sense of camaraderie. He wanted to tell her verbally that he was okay, having noticed that she had been watching him then, but the words would have to come later once they were out of the woods and in a relatively safe status. He immediately took position towards the left, completing the formation with standard military decorum. If the situation had not been so uncertain, he would have offered to help Senjo carry her load, even though he knew that it would be exceptionally difficult lugging such equipment around with his physique.<br><br>As he followed Reaper, he visibly noticed the surroundings become more clear as soon as they were well within the area of raised elevation. No more wind to buffet over his face. The conditions had just improved only slightly, still having to squint through the rain that pattered all over his armored body-<br><br><em>-There was a difference between barren world rain and tropical rain. The precipitation had clear distinctions. Although the jungle had trees and vegetation to act as shelter from the elements, the volume of water was far more than that of any storm. When it rains in the jungle, do not expect the ground to be very solid after the first 5 minutes, and not be very stable after 10. Keeping dry is nigh impossible, as the mud can do what the assaulting rainwater could not. Rivers and waterfalls could do what lightning strikes could not. Many a good marine has had their moments with flashfloods more than they do with any enemy when on duty on a jungle planet, and many more had died needlessly for it.<br><br>"Well, this sucks..."<br>"Shut your gob, you funking wanker, and keep walking!"<br>"No disrespect, sir, but walk where? We're fucking swamped in a mud bath!"<br>"Suck it up! Both of you! Stick to the tree roots. Make sure you keep that equipment off the ground."<br>A splash of something falling from behind the line, "Oh.... Too late, Captain...."<br>"For God's sakes, Gizmo!"<br>"Sorry!"<br>"Watch your footing, lads,-"</em><br><br>"-cause you never know when the next step will be your last." Gizmo whispered to himself, steadily keeping his feet firmly clamped onto the rocky ground. Lessons learnt to keep his centre of gravity in check, he had gone over his clumsy streak long ago. He used to trip over even the slightest of tree trunks and sometimes on his own shoelaces, ridiculed again for quite a while and reprimanded by many an officer. He made it a mission to keep his balance nowadays, taking advantage of his small size and relatively lean body shape, training his body enough to fit proper marine standards. Kept up well with good footing in this outfit, and gladly enough, no accidents that showed his previous weakness, only imagining what nightmares the Sarge and the LT could conjure if he tripped over now. Gingerly, he stepped over a blunt looking rock outcropping without even giving it much of a thought, keeping his shotgun raised and ready, his mouth shut to keep the resonant ambiance undisturbed in his ear. A lot of the rocks were weathered beaten by wind and rain, blasted for quite a while before their arrival, so much of it was smoothed down and hardened. It made it a little easier if it were not for the random obstruction to a brisk straight walk down their path.<br><br>Within a sweep towards his left and to his right, his peripherals caught sight of Reaper's back nearby and a passing thought flashed through his mind. He did not know the man very well, except for the fact that he shoots his guns extremely well, and every attempt so far to socialize usually ends with a deathly stare into his soul. It was easy to tell how he came to be known by that nickname. He had seen what he could do and the things he did had a different disposition to that of the LT and Rome. The man was deathly calm, even when dispatching an enemy, as he was now, leading his group in the front like a wolf in disguise. Giz cant say he liked him, that unnerving sense of silence and fear that was so different to the other squadmembers. Nonetheless, his guts overrode his thoughts and he trusted Reaper all the same, as he does all the rest for the same reason they bonded as a team.<br><br>He kept thoughts about the mission details and tactics to himself. As a general rule, he tried his best not to sound like a smartass by voicing too much of his opinions, due to his rank, file and standing. If they needed him, they would just need to holler and he would be there if it was feasibly possible. All he needed to do right now was follow orders and not be a smartass. 'That way everything would go along just fine', quoting from a long lost face he once knew, 'Step out of line, and the whole system falls apart. We dont want that to happen, dont we?.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>24-05-2010, 23:27:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The path Corporal Morden was making along the slope and the highlighted 'Best Tactical' line flickering on my internal map had a 94.7% correlation. Morden was doing the job almost perfectly according to the Marine Fieldcraft Manual.<br><br>I kept a few metres to Private Law's left rear in a position where only a slight turn of my head would bring both marines into view and beyond and below them, Lance Corporal Mitchell also. From time to time our point-man's head would swing back to check on those following. I would meet his gaze and give a single nod of my head and move on.<br><br>The fact I was just a beast of burden if we hit an ambush was pushed aside. My mind remained clear. At least I had a good pair of eyes. I used them to interrogate every rock, gully and scree slope uphill of us, and the skyline. To a human with their visual associations a rock could take the shape of a man, the light reflecting off a wet boulder could be a gun barrel. A humped slope a tank. I suffered no such mental clutter. Each shape and outline was interrogated for movement relative to my own then measured for bulk against perspective. Every shadowed hollow was penetrated. I literally scoured that hillside clean.<br><br>Nothing.<br><br>Just rock and rain. Mud and mist.<br><br>Lower down the slope Bravo Team moved crisply in a steady creep, moving from cover to cover in what was effectively an elongated staggered diamond formation, mirroring our own group.<br><br>Intermittently behind me, above the rush of the wind and pulsing of precipitation which was reduced considerably here in the lee of the spine of land to our left, I heard small noises that fell within the audible envelope of a human of Leftenant Mengsk's bulk wearing the M190 KPBA suit. I didn't break visual link with the point to turn and check the Leftenant was there. I knew he was covering our rear.<br><br>2,487 metres from insertion point to target. The target was large however. A standard construction Weyland-Yutani terraforming colony outpost was a rectangle of steel and plastruct plating and columns surrounded by a four metre cast concrete fence some two hectares in area. Depending on the exact orientation we should make visible contact with the south-western corner of the base perimeter after approximately 2,200 metres. Less if we came upon it from an elevated position.<br><br>Watching Lance Corporal Mitchell and Corporal Morden moving steadily but slowly and tracking our progress on my internal map I estimated we would cover those 2.2 klicks in forty minutes. We had left the insertion point thirty three minutes ago. Mitchell or Morden should make visual with the perimeter wall very soon. If the colony still had power, lights on the gatehouse should be the first evidence...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>24-05-2010, 23:40:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>As the bay doors to the UD-4 opened and Kilo squad poured out, Rome moved to cover the 2 o'clock position until the drop ship dusted off and was in the clear. Once the drop ship was away, Sarge gave Bravo team their marching orders and they began to move out, falling into line where directed. Rome reached up and pulled his goggles down from the front of his helmet and let them snap into place on his face. <br><br>Noticing the hand signal from Widow, Rome shifted to his left a few meters, still mostly in a line but not directly behind or in front of any of the others. He considered thumbing his motion tracker on but had already noticed others attempting to utilize their motion trackers with no success - the weather impeded their use at this time. Rome pointed his weapon to the left of their staggered column, slowly sweeping it downrange, left to right and back again. <br><br><strong>EDIT</strong><br>As they began to pick their way over the rough terrain towards the colony ahead, Rome glanced far enough to his left to be able to catch Zippo in his peripheral vision, ensuring to himself that the formation was intact and someone had his back, albeit a nineteen year old female someone in a crazy looking "Ape Suit" and carrying an M240B flamethrower that could burn them all to a crisp with one slip of the finger. Yeah, he felt better already, turning his attention back to the terrain before them, following Widow's lead.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 02:02:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the squad continued along their path the colony began to come into view, at first it was little more than a dot on the horizon, but minute by minute it began to take shape, the pilot of the drop ship had touched down as close as possible to the colony while still maintaining safety and not dropping the marines into what could possibly be a hot LZ. As such it didn't take too long for the marines to get within visual range of the colony.<br><br><br>"Jackie's Hope" was a standard colony, like every other Weyland Yutani colony that had ever been built, it followed the same floor plan, and was designed to be as immune to hostile elements as possible, every door and window could be locked and covered so that the colony would resemble a large metal box more than anything if need be. And the need had obviously been. The colony was in a state of lock down, it's windows and doors closed, there were no signs of movement anywhere along the outside, none of the civilian vehicles, or load lifting suits were moving, and not a soul could be seen. If the rebels knew that the marines had landed they didn't seem to be planning on confronting them outside of the building. In addition to this the satellite array was down and completely missing from the colony's roof. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 03:27:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He looked around the place.&nbsp; "Secure this position." The shutters was definite sign of potential danger.&nbsp; If they were all inside, there should at least be some ambient noise.&nbsp; He hated the cliche but it was quiet...too quiet.&nbsp; Either way, they needed to get in somehow.&nbsp; Regardless, he was afraid the danger might also be inside. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 08:04:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>The first Gizmo could see was the awe inducing silhoutte of the massive compound and like an epic movie, each step closer revealed more jaw dropping details. Past the rain, he could see its ominous walls towering above them like huge man made monoliths of ancient times. Figured that the whole look of the structure almost looked jet black, as much blasted by the wind and rain as the rocks around them. They showed age but also strength enough to keep the elements and potential intruders out. Unlike the previous colonies he had seen, this was one of the more impressive ones, far more foreboding that blended into the environment like a silent tomb.<br><br>Ignoring the phantasms that danced around the huge structures within eyesight, he sprung into action cautiously, continuing to follow Reaper's lead as they swept the area. He kept his eyes open for traps, openings and any points of interest. Wet ground was easier to identify tracks of any kind and he could see that no one had moved in and out of the colony for a while. Did not seem like any strange suspicious devices were attached to anything around them just yet. From this distance, he could see many of external door controls in the red, locked down but nothing he could not handle if the squad needed him to open. The missing satelite array was a worrying sight. It told a lot of stories about why all contact with the place was lost.<br><br>Maybe he could somehow get up there for some damage control some time later. Right now, it was high time to make himself useful. This would be the general time when he would be needed the most, waiting for a finger pointed at any door, any vehicle, any opening.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sanai</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 11:16:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Reaper cautiously stalked towards the compound, lowering himself into a half crouch, signalling to those behind him that they should do the same. The first moments, when a squad enters a compound, are some of the riskiest. Booby traps, ambushes and dangerous pests could all abound in such a situation. He ran through his mind, how he would carry out such an ambush, trying to spot the best positions for traps and ambushes, his eyes walking along the edge of the rooftops, trying to glimpse any potential snipers, alternating with a visual observation of each door, window and crate, looking for traps and rebels.<br>Then, he stopped, as he reached one of outmost compound buildings. Standing, looking around the building corner, he said to the others in the team <br><strong>"We should wait here, for the others to check it all out."</strong> he said softly, as he ran his fingers along the barrel of his pulse rifle lovingly.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 12:49:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_16.jpg) <br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_15.jpg) <br><br>The colony buildings came in sight through the darkness of the storm, the row of roof lamps being their first indication, then the perimeter walls. A wide vehicle gate in the wall was standing wide open. The squad approached slowly, skirting round to the west on the higher ground until we could look down on the compound.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_17.jpg) <br><br>Nothing was moving.<br><br>Corporal Morden went close and put his head around the gate to quickly recon the hardstanding in front of the buildings. From this distance I could determine that there were abandoned maintenance and survey tractors around, some cargo trolleys and considerable quantities of junk.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_18.jpg) <br><br>Sergeant O'Shay ordered an area secured and within seconds this was done, several pulse rifles pointing out in a rough circle with the Leftenant in the centre. Again I ditched the sentry gun drums and took up my rifle, continuing to scan the area to the west uphill of us. Lance Corporal Mitchell was near Corporal Morden in advance of our small perimeter, the two of them both examining the view inside the gate.<br><br>The area between the compound security wall and the buildings was a mess, the type of mess that only accumulates with some time without maintenance. Given the wind and weather this area might have gone untouched for a week to two weeks.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_19.jpg) <br><br>I refrained from commenting to the Leftenant about how derelict the yard looked, he could see it for himself. Inside the fence and below one wall of the main building was a vehicular service lock.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_20.jpg)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 20:29:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I had expected a colony full of rebels with their cross triggers on my squad the moment we got in range but instead I got a ghost colony. A lot of things gave me an unsettling feeling in my gut, for one the lack of communication satellite and then the condition of the colony. Something had happened that either caused these people to flee or garrison themselves into the main building. My original plan was to simply watch them from afar but that was only if the colony showed any activity from within. <br><strong>"Sarge take the reins of Alpha team, Gizmo see if you can pick up any signals from this place, Senjo set up your toys, this is our temp fall back location till we find something better. Bravo Team with me, we need to search and secure the outer buildings and see if we find anything interesting."</strong><br>I could not leave this squad without a officer but it was in my own direct orders to find out what was going on down here. <br><strong>"Let's move." </strong><br>Reaching back I took my shotgun in hand and motioned over to Bravo that we would be moving counterclockwise until we were back at the starting location with Alpha. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 22:59:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Yes, sir.&nbsp; We still on radio silence?" <br><br>"All right.&nbsp; You heard the man.&nbsp; Secure this point.&nbsp; Alpha, put your motion trackers on." He figured some chance of a warning was better than none.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 23:26:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Unless it is urgent, yes."<br>Tiberius nodded, until he was sure what they were in for the less evidence of them on that planet the better. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 23:46:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The rising ground we were on was at the south-west corner of the compound and the Leftenant had secured a tactically sound patch of dirt. There was an oval space about twenty metres by ten aligned long-axis parallel to the north-south ridge behind us. Several large rocks defined the small plateau, the main weakness being that it was overlooked from higher up to the west.<br><br>The site of the first gun was without question, a tactically perfect position in between two low rocks that gave out onto a long glacis sloping down east and towards the vehicle gate below us. I carried one drum and lay it down between the two rocks, cracking the catches open and setting up the sentry so it was in defilade between them but had a superb field of fire down the glacis for more than 400 metres across a forty-five degree arc. I plugged in the network devices, flipped open the control handset and powered up, leaving the gun in test mode until I had the second online.<br><br>We still had 270 degrees of perimeter to cover but south, the way we had come was the least likely direction of an enemy attack. The western quadrant was the next statistically least likely since it was away from the colony and any hostiles up there had already thrown away their best chance to engage us favourably during our advance. I therefore selected a location facing north along the ridge and parallel with the colony's western-most wall below us. This second gun had a less ideal site but it was still good, covering 250 metres of slope over a 40 degree arc. Some rocky outcrops provided cover for an enemy approach however.<br><br>I retired to the lee of the biggest rock on the west side to set up both guns control consoles, small black flip-top keypads with liquid crystal screens. I built a makeshift desk from the two carry drums, propping the lid of the upper one open with its pneumatic stay. The control desk was protected from the worst of the weather. I selected soft targets and visible wavelength auto-targeting before setting both guns to 'armed'.<br><br>I left the spare 1500 rounds of ammunition adjacent to each gun in the best covered location our small perimeter provided.<br><br>There are IFF tracking panels sewn into the waistbands of standard Marine combat pants as well as on the waist panels of the standard armour such as the Ape Suit and the KPBA. These tags are interrogated by the UC571-A's laser designator: the guns will not fire on friendly targets. I had IFF tags sewn into the waist band of both my long coat and my coveralls. According to my database the resourceful lab personnel had run countless tests on blast waves against test dummies wearing a variety of USCM combat clothing and it had transpired that in 88% of cases it was the waist area of the combat pants that was most resistant to being torn from a body during a blast. Helmets, boots, weapons and light armour panels such as greaves on limbs were dispersed early in the tests when subjected to lower pressure blasts. Jackets and pants legs and finally combat vests were more resistant although by the stages the average vest was blasted from the torso the human within it would have only a 2.7% chance of remaining combat effective.<br><br>Therefore the powers that make the decisions had put the tags into the marines waistbands.<br><br>Taking my pulse rifle I returned to scanning the westward perimeter again. I was becoming familiar with that skyline now. Following the Sergeant's order I powered up my internal motion tracker but it returned mostly a foggy mush out to it's maximum range. As I waited, ignoring the rain that plastered down my hair and ingressed down my upturned collar, I considered tactical situations where Bravo Team might have to retire onto our base of operations and through the sentry guns field of fire with a force of hostiles in close pursuit. That would be an enlightening test of the IFF system.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>26-05-2010, 05:39:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The outside of the colony was very utilitarian. It was a single corridor leading down the length of the colony building. The right wall of the corridor was dotted with two different 'hole in the wall' private business. There was a bar, with a neon sign declaring what it was. As well as a restaurant who's wooden sign declared that it served "the best Mexican food on the planet!" On the left side of the there was a series of small garages each one large enough to hold a single civilian crawler or tractor, though it seemed that every garage was empty, as if every vehicle that could be driven away had been. <br><br><br>The service lock was the only real entrance into the main colony building from this side, and it was locked tight, it's keypad a standard civilian model. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>26-05-2010, 12:05:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>"Roger that, sir." Gizmo immediately went to work. "Signal equipment setting up in 3 minutes."<br><br>Setting himself down in the relative safety of the fall back point, he dropped to a low crouch, shotgun placed onto a rock next to him, shouldering off the reinforced plasteel pack strapped to his back. Thumbing in the code to the minuscule looking keypad on its side, the pack clicked open to reveal an array of medium sized computer equipment, an organized mess of dark colored casings, cables and foldable dishes. His arms reached in, a quick and precise blur of motion were his hands, the clock counting down his set up time second by second. A minute passed and he had put together the compact main unit with his pack acting as a makeshift stand. Half way through another, he had plugged in all the necessary cables. Half way next, two dishes were up on a nearby rock. The last minute taken to power up, set parameters and check all connections. Just as the last second passed, the signal and comms equipment was hot and ready.<br><br>His personal computer. Powerful. Multipurpose. Customizable. Water and shock proof. Reliable in any electronic based tasks and objectives. Easy to set up and easy to pack. If given the chance to, he could patch in anywhere, see anything, basically play administrator as long as he was allowed access and was given enough concentration time. Took him 8 weeks to draw the plans and get the parts he needed. 2 more to put it together and test run it. 1 more to compact the design to fit into a metal reinforced backpack, much to his satisfaction and the awkward delight of his superiors. The whole thing ran on a compact external 16 hour rechargeable battery he retrofitted, which he could hotwire into any stable power supply to syphon off electricity for direct A/C or recharge. In most mobile situations, he would only need to pull out the light weight main unit, carefully stowed for easy access, which ran on a standard 8 hour rechargeable battery, but as the situation called for a signal sweep, he had to whip out the extra equipment from the lower compartments. He was only been able to dream of playing around with such a computer years ago. If it were not for military and government backing, such a computer would only be a dream.<br><br>The most he could do now without a direct access to the colony's mainframe was try to go wireless into any system he could find. Could be difficult without the main long range colony scanner array and this damn rain, but he could try with the local secondaries scattered about the colony. TV antennas or anything with a decent transmitter. He set his computer to search mode, checking for signal strength, bouncing his encrypted signal back to the Mitchum in space to act as a satellite.<br><br>Once he gets something, he would be able to start scanning for life signs and radio waves that weren't theirs. If the LT wanted him to, he could try to patch into security cameras, individual consoles and whatever others systems that would be available to him. With his current setup, that should be possible if access was unrestricted. He would be very busy in front of his screen and he needed someone to watch his back in the meanwhile. Looking around, he could see that the whole of Alpha was still around, more than enough protection with so many heads to look about. After turning back to his screen, he concentrated on his work, tapping away at the keys, blazing through all the numbers and text.<br><br>It would have been much easier on him if he could have asked Bravo to look for the main communications center. It would definately help to check the condition of the place, and the equipment in that building could take a load off his back, making it easier for him to access places where his own computer could not. He could also assess the extent of any damage on the main dish and its systems, wherever it magically went. If it was repairable, they would have communications back online, probably a vital objective to look forward to. However, it was a little too late to holler after them, and the order for radio silence he stuck to diligently. He hoped at least that once they found that building, they would let him know.<br><br>He also made sure he plugged in his motion tracker to a port in his computer. With a bit of tinkering in the past, he managed to be able to directly monitor his XV35 through his screen with the thing plugged externally. In mind of this, his thoughts suddenly turned to a certain WY tech that he had heard about but never seen. An improved version of the marine issue motion tracker, able to range its signal to a full 360 degrees over a 50 meter readout. He was unsure about its existence since no one in mind was willing to talk to him about it, either not willing or genuinely not knowing. As he was in the zone, part of his brain started piecing together plans for tinkering around with the concept, an improved prototype of the XV35, of which he would have to worry about later once he got the time.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>26-05-2010, 20:30:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				)*&amp;()^*&amp;*&amp;^*(*(*(^&amp;...........(*))%$$#^&amp;T%^*............... A soft buzzing could be heard in the radio of every marine as FATHER sent a tight wave, transmission to the Lieutenant's wrist computer, the message said <br><br>"FATHER reports....Weyland-Yutani Schematics Downloaded.....map of Lv-1875 Civilian Colony, "Jakie's Hope" now available for inspection via USMC Database accessible by officer's wrist born computer. Have a nice day!"<br><br><br><br><hr> <br><br><br>There were few hiding places outside the main building, with the garages empty it was very easy to see through their large windows, the door to the bar was left ajar, where as the door to the Mexican restaurant was closed tight. There was no movement other than the marines. From the outside the colony seemed totally deserted, after closing the distance with the building anyone listening in on the civilian radio band could hear a static choked transmission, the transmitter's voice was garbled, distorted, and impossible to understand it was as if who ever was transmitting either didn't know or didn't care that their dish was down. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>27-05-2010, 06:42:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer spent the time on the long walk occupied by what she could see, or more specifically, what she was looking for. Besides leading the platoon towards the objective, she was vigilant for ambushes, traps or anything out of the ordinary. Ordinary being rain, rock, and not much else. This planet was a shit hole, some kind of personal gloom for the poor bastards who lived here in hopes of a good life, but all Jennifer thought about this place was it smelled and it wasn't pretty, so what was the point in being here. In her opinion, there was none, colonists were usually more trouble then they were worth, and in her experience that proved true more often then not. <br><br>Without that mind boggling conversation to keep herself amused, the trek to the colony was a bore. Once she could at least see it, she had something to walk towards and Jennifer was content to at least be here, dread the idea she'd gotten turned around by the endless rocks that all looked the same. On the outside, it looked like a usual colony but Jennifer's mind quickly spotted the obvious contradictions of a 'healthy colony'. Blast doors and shutters all closed, no communications array and no people. At least they had base power, but that meant little to Jennifer as she approached the walls, her rifle now back up to a firing position and her eyes scanning for threats. <br><br>Before she entered the colony, she stopped at the gates and crouched, concealed by the wall from any threats inside, she leisurely leaned out into the open, very slowly, with her IR tracker coming out first. It would detect heat, but there was none, aside from the neon sign. She leaned out more, and pushed her IR monocle aside, looking at the colony with her true eyes. It seemed okay, for the most part if unwelcoming, but the whole planet was like that. If there were any rebels in there, they were playing it smart. Using their own terrain to wait the squad out and fight on turf the Marines would not know well. If there were even any colonists here. Truth be told, the whole idea of a rebellion and this platoon being tasked to deal with it always sat low with Jennifer, she had her ideas set on a similar incident, albeit a while ago, where illegal smugglers decided human trafficking was a very profitable suit. Marines showed up a nice week after it had been done, but even so this situation made Jennifer uneasy all the same. Something bugged her, and while not usually superstitious, she was smart enough to heed to her gut feelings as often as she could.<br><br>Jennifer's ears caught word of them moving out, and Bravo leading the charge. She glanced over and stood up, watching the Lieutenant approach and nodding at his orders. She looked over to Rome and waved, spinning her hand around slowly in a counter-clockwise circle with her index finger extended, then quickly waving her hand back and forth, her palm facing down. She organized the fireteam into a very loose wedge, an arrow with one side longer then the other, by one in this case. With that done, she peeked back inside the main gates and flipped down her infrared, glancing a little more around the corner before stepping out, raising her rifle to a ready position with maximum visibility, Jennifer immediately turned and stopped, her rifle coming up as she scanned the long walk area ahead for any obvious traps. She took a few steps and stopped again, looking for signs of movement. Content they were not being watched, Jennifer moved out again and hugged the wall, her eyes fixed on the turn ahead.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>27-05-2010, 11:06:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>Rome spotted a sign as they were nearing the complex announcing the name of the Weyland-Yutani colony, <em>‘Jackie’s Hope’.</em> He smirked and shook his head with a derisive grin. He had a thought to convey regarding the colony's name but the order had been given to maintain radio silence until further notice so he filed the thought away to comment on later.<br><br>He vigilantly covered their left flank as Widow carefully surveyed the area directly ahead. Feeling comfortable it was safe to proceed, Widow attracted Rome's attention with a wave of her hand followed by a couple of other quick gestures. Rome quickly interpreted her hand signals <em>'on me. proceeding forward. wedge formation'</em> and replied with a thumbs up before relaying the signals to the rest of the team behind him. Bravo team progressed cautiously as they moved inside the colony’s blast wall. Rome flipped the recently installed thumb toggle and his motion tracker barked and strobed at him rhythmically, hungrily scanning the area ahead for movement. It was reading better now than it had at ingress, though it still mostly just showed up as a mess of garbled static. The place looked deserted, like a ghost town, giving Rome an uneasy feeling, like some unseen presence was watching them. Most of the vehicles typically found within a colony at this stage of operation were missing. Creeping eastward, bravo team made a full sweep of the perimeter of the colony's main structure. Nearing the point where they had entered past the blast wall, they passed a small building jutting out from the main building. The neon light which hung above the smaller building's entrance simply read, <em>BAR</em>. As the passed the building, the neon flickered and hummed at them, casting an eerie, dim red glow across their faces and reflecting off of their shinier pieces of gear. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>28-05-2010, 00:29:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i247.photobucket.com/albums/gg157/onilobo/colony.png)</div>The scan had resulted with nothing but confirmation that the colony was deserted from the outside, inside was an entire other story but I would rather be safe when dealing with the unknown. As our sweep came was concluding I heard my computer make the chirp in my earpiece as new intel downloaded onto it. <em>Thanks FATHER...</em> The maps truly had me thankful, even if it was just a blueprint it would help us navigate the inside with minimal surprises. <br><strong>"Alpha squad move up to us, bring your toys Senjo."</strong><br>I was the one to break radio silence, I felt we could at least remove that obstruction in order to communicate once more...besides I hated silence, especially at a time like this. I signaled for Rome to keep an eye on the west, the direction Alpha would come from and Widow the west, just to be cautious. There was to much open air, to many places attacks could come from and being inside was no better but at least we would have a roof over out heads. I tested the doors, quickly noticing it would take then my know how to get those doors to open. <br><strong>"Gizmo, I got a door for you to crack along with some intel from big daddy." </strong><br>Once we were all reuniting I motioned for everyone to stand at the sides in case of any type of trap or ambush, standard infiltration protocol until those doors became unlock and see what exactly was or was not waiting on the inside for us. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>28-05-2010, 03:22:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Aye Aye, sir," O'Shay responded.&nbsp; "Senjo, how quickly can we get the sentries inside?" He had one of those feelings that they would need them very soon.&nbsp; Those feelings were usually right.&nbsp; It was one thing that had kept him alive this long.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>28-05-2010, 08:40:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>Just as he thought. The signal was really fucked up. Patching in wireless was a tall order, interference from wind, rain and the proximity of any secondaries in range. Wherever they were, they were either too far away or badly damaged. The good news was that they were still there, unlike the missing main dish, and he was able to patch his computer into the colony's short range communications system, used for inter-building communications as emergency backup when direct lines were cut or the power goes out. 'South West Short Range Array No. 16'. This dish was the best he could find from his list. All the others were too out there for any attempt.<br><br>His scope was limited. There was only so much he could do with that array. He tried whatever he could anyway. Zeroing into the signal, he typed in the command to expand a search. The busy screen appeared for a full minute, before he was taken to familiar screens where the real info was. It was impossible to scan for life signs. He needed to connect to a bigger, more sophisticated dish to do that, or the colony mainframe. It was possible to expand the service area of the communications network from that dish however, to see which other dishes it talked to. There were quite a few and Giz switched carefully between each one. One of them caught his attention. On the civilian bandwidth, his computer detected activity. It was very messy, even after boosting the signal. He could not tell exactly from where but it generally came from inside the main building. Plugging in a wire to connect his earpiece to his computer, he tried to listen in. All he got was very bad interference and whatever the other person or persons were saying were lost in the roar of static that assaulted his ears.<br><br>Satisfied with what he had found, he unplugged himself when he heard the LT's radio call. It was time to move up. He had done all he could do in that small space of time, fruitful to say the least. Packing up his equipment as quickly as he had set up, he set his computer for mobile usage. The external battery he packed inside his backpack, the wire that supplied power fed out a tube into the main unit, which was strapped onto his side for easy access. He no longer needed his two dishes so he put them back where they belong. Picking up his shotgun, he was ready to go.<br><br>"I got something, Sarge. Civilian bandwidth from inside the main building. Someones transmitting but I cant get exactly from where. Signal's too messed up out here." He reported his findings to Sarge nearby, "Cant get much else without the mainframe in front of me. I'll need to get to it for a full signal sweep, sir."<br><br>As they moved out, Giz hoped that whatever he heard weren't ghost signals. He had experience with them many times before. A person could hear one thing on the radio and when they get to the transmitter, it was gone. Normally that led to a trap or a firefight, more than a confused scratch on the head. A really good hacker could trick computers to thinking that one computer was talking to another, when actually the commands came from a third computer. He did not detect any kind of foul play from his signal scanners, but that did not rule out the possibility.<br><br>As soon as they got to the new rendezvous, he reported what he had to the LT, making sure that everyone present knew what he knew, hearing out the intel that the LT got from FATHER. He then looked upon his next task and sized it up. Civilian access. Standard colony double doors with a lock on an external pedestal. Nothing his computer could not fix. Dropping to a low crouch next to the pedestal, he kept himself in the shadow to quietly begin his work, knowing that his fellow marines were behind him and watching him. Whipping out his computer from his belt, he opened the electronics hatch and started pulling and plugging with the wires. Within seconds, he was into the system and his tool connecting to decipher the passcode. While the half of his screen was a bunch of whirling numbers, he attempted to patch into any security camera that would show any feed of what was inside. Better safe than sorry.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sanai</strong> on <strong>28-05-2010, 09:40:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>"I don't like this. I do not see any rebels Sergeant." </strong> Reaper said to O'shay.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>28-05-2010, 13:12:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>Private Law was working away at his own computer. I assigned one part of my peripheral vision to observe him while I remained watching the hillside with 85% of my sensory inputs. I was aware how he had got hold of some of the parts - through official channels. I was also aware that some of the components were never released to a marine company at the platoon level. How he had acquired such items I didn't wish to speculate.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"I got something, Sarge. Civilian bandwidth from inside the main building. Someone's transmitting but I cant get exactly from where. Signal's too messed up out here. Cant get much else without the mainframe in front of me. I'll need to get to it for a full signal sweep, sir."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> From orbit the Mitchum scan had made a crude broadband sweep, enough to give a general indication of the intact condition of the colony structures, lack of moving life on the exposed surface and functioning reactor in the atmosphere processor. Closer to the structure below the ionisation layers Private Law's equipment should be sufficient to connect to the colony's wireless networks, if they were operational. His comment about a garbled transmission was significant. If he could pinpoint which subsystem it was running on it would be a quick task to interrogate the logs. That would reveal whether it was a current activity or a recording. My internal scenario calculators quickly assessed the probabilities and informed me there was a much higher chance of this being a recorded transmission on a loop.<br><br>The radio crackled into life. It was the Leftenant.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Alpha squad move up to us, bring your toys Senjo."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> <strong>"Aye, aye, Sir."</strong> I was moving before I had finished speaking, as was Law. While the Sentries took some three minutes to set up approximately half of this time was required to get them online and the targeting software programmed. Taking them down took less effort. I needed only to punch the 'armed' button again to make the weapons safe before shutting off the command consoles and plugging everything back into it's carry drums. There was however an easier way.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Aye Aye, sir. Senjo, how quickly can we get the sentries inside?"</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> The Sergeant's question was quickly answered, <strong>"I need only a few seconds, Sergeant, less if Corporal Morden will assist."</strong> Law was busy. Then again, Morden was too; he and the Sergeant were Alpha Teams' only two weapons at the current time. I assessed the threats, the need for rapid redeployment and made my decision.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"I don't like this. I do not see any rebels Sergeant."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> The Corporal spoke, no doubt he was voicing all the concerns of the squad. We had been told to expect resistance, rebellious colonists or a terrorist attack on the valuable part-terraformed world for political means but instead we had found only a ghost town with no signs of a struggle, just abandonment.<br><br><strong>"Corporal Reaper. Please take the carry drums for the guns. It is quicker."</strong> I slung my rifle and the zipper bag containing the gun command consoles around my neck and then collected the two ammunition hard bags. Going to each gun in turn I physically set the safeties to 'on' and with a carefully poised knee and back, hefted first one, then the second over my shoulder in the way a surveyor carries his theodolite, collapsing the tripod mounts flat as I did so. I remained squatting in cover by the pair of big rocks at the top of the glacis, waiting for the Corporal to collect the guns' cases.<br><br>The platoon leaders' voice came over the radio again.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Gizmo, I got a door for you to crack along with some intel from big daddy."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> I formed a visual in my mind of Bravo Team having reconned the base pereimeter, found little of interest and stopped at a cargo lock.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_23.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_24.jpg)<br><br>Keeping radio use to the minimum I turned my head to nod at the Sergeant, a 'ready to go' sign. Corporal Reaper and Private Law were right with us. We moved out, scurrying quickly in a fast bent-low tactical run and within two or three minutes movement eastward along the south wall of the colony came up on Bravo Team who were gathered inside the outer blast wall around a cargo bay door. Private Law immediately got to work.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_22.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_21.jpg)<br><br>While he was doing that I took the drums from Corporal Reaper and disassembled the guns, stuffing them back in their cases. Morden was needed as a rifleman, not a pack horse.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>28-05-2010, 20:26:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The security system showed nothing but blank screens, as if the cameras had all be destroyed or had their connections severed from the mainframe. The door's lock was meant to hold out uninvited guests. And it was extremely effective at doing so. Possessing a top of the line civilian model encryption. But as with many things what was top of the line on the civilian market was nothing compared to what the military possessed. Within minutes the door's control pad sounded off with a soft DING! and the service lock slid smoothly open. <br><br><br><br>The service lock entered into the vehicle repair shop. In better days this depot was a beehive of activity, with the sound of drills, metal saws, and welding tools all around. Now the depot, like the rest of the colony so far was deserted, silent and empty. A single [img=http://www.art.eonworks.com/gallery/concept/truck_design-200210-SM.jpg]http://civilian tractor[/img] was hoisted up in the repair station, but there was no sign of any of the tools that should have been strewn about other than those which were tool large to be man portable in addition to this the depot was completely devoid of spare parts. <br><br><br>There were two doors leading further into the colony, one to the right of the service lock with a sign that said "Mettle Shop" and one directly forward of the service lock who's sign said "Wood Shop, Dining Hall, Hab Block". 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>29-05-2010, 00:25:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"I don't like this. I do not see any rebels, Sergeant," </strong> Reaper said to O'shay.<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div>"Stay frosty, Reaper," was the curt reply but Reaper's instincts were aligned with his own.&nbsp; <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3084543#msg3084543">Quote from: Miles Trent on 28-05-2010, 08:40:41</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br><br>"I got something, Sarge. Civilian bandwidth from inside the main building. Someones transmitting but I cant get exactly from where. Signal's too messed up out here." He reported his findings to Sarge nearby, "Cant get much else without the mainframe in front of me. I'll need to get to it for a full signal sweep, sir."<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"Good work, Gizmo.&nbsp; Report that to the LT as soon as we get there.&nbsp; First clue we've had all day."<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3084680#msg3084680">Quote from: Sanai on 28-05-2010, 09:40:45</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><br>He nodded back to Senjo.&nbsp; "All right! Everybody in! Double time! Reaper, get the ammo drums! I'm sick of exposed positions," he barked as they hustled in.&nbsp; He went in first, sweeping his weapon around.&nbsp; <br><br>They reached Alpha's position, taking in the garage.&nbsp; The lack of tools and equipment was very disconcerting.&nbsp; No mechanic picked up his tools unless they were relocating long term.&nbsp; Also, the fact that the heavier equipment remained suggested they left in a hurry.&nbsp; There was a definite air of desperation about it.&nbsp; <br><br>"...looks like the colonists were bugging out in a hurry."<br><br>"Sir, we need to investigate that signal.&nbsp; Right now, that's our only lead."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sanai</strong> on <strong>29-05-2010, 10:22:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Reaper snapped to, quickly grabbing the drums as instructed by Senjo, running along with the team towards the door, sweeping the area around them with his eyes, disliking his current inability to provide fire if they came under attack. When they reached the blast doors, he dropped the cases for Senjo and swung up his rifle, sweeping it around the nearby area. When the door slid open, Reaper waited outside for the team to enter, watching the rear for any potential attack.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>29-05-2010, 11:11:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Completing their circuit of the main building’s outer perimeter, Bravo Team came to a halt in front of the service lock across from where they had entered behind the blast wall. Rome noticed Lt. Mengsk’s signal and he quickly turned, covering alpha team’s approach as they moved in from the west to consolidate their strength once again.<br><br>As Alpha Team arrived, Gizmo quickly went to work on the service lock’s control access hatch. Satisfied that alpha was accounted for, Rome moved into defilade behind a collection of large tractor tires which where stacked in several columns, some of them 2 tires high, some of them 4, and others in-between. He positioned himself opposite the service lock as Gizmo cracked open his M6 ComTech 'Bypass' Toolkit, a polyurethane vinyl wallet-style billfold pouch with a covered flap and velcro closure, to persuade the service lock door open. The toolkit contained a diagnostics and interface computer (DIC), an EM detector, circuit breadboard with RTM serial ribbon connector, alligator clip electrode connectors, spare wiring, a soldering iron and solder. All of the tools were secured within the wallet by elastic webbings. <br><br>“Looks like you’re gonna get your DIC wet after all, Giz.” Rome said jokingly over the comms channel as he directed his M56 towards the service lock, ready to blast anything that might be waiting for them once the doors opened. “Okay Giz, I’m in position. Spread that bitch’s legs.” He was referring to the doors, of course, but then that was Rome in true form.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>29-05-2010, 15:19:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>On entering what was clearly a vehicle workshop I heard Sergeant O'Shay refer to the colonists departing in a hurry. I stopped, bracing my feet under my heavy load and scanned carefully around. Not only were all the hand tools and smaller power tools absent but the racks that had signs on designating spare parts storage were also almost empty.<br><br>Why would the colonists strip a repair shop of tools? What use could they be elsewhere? My mind ran through the logical options. Only two came up with any probability of being a relevant answer.<br><br>They required them to work on something elsewhere - which would evidently not be vehicles and,<br><br><em>weapons. They used them as weapons.</em><br><br>The bay was stripped clean. This wasn't the work of panicking people in a hurry, more like a methodical strip-down of essential resources needed elsewhere. The spares might include crawler or truck body panels. Useful for... my mind examined possibilities again.<br><br><em>Barricades.</em><br><br><strong>"Leftenant"</strong> I called out loudly, <strong>"My view is this workshop has been stripped clean to build defences elsewhere in the complex. The arc welders are not here, oxy-acetylene cylinder trolleys absent,"</strong> I said calmly, still casting my gaze slowly about the room.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo-01.jpg)<br><br>The scenario of in-fighting between a loyal and a rebellious segment of the colonists or a terrorist attack held more weight again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>29-05-2010, 23:39:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>"Sarge, take point once more. Same as earlier." </strong><br>I nodded at Senjo and pointed in the direction we would be going.<br><strong>"We are going clockwise, every room checked before we descend, if there is colonist in here we are bound to find them. Gizmo, shut these doors behind us and make sure they will open on code "Kilo"...like hell I am going to let anything come in after us." </strong><br>Eying the machine shop I had my assumptions that the colony was abandoned, but where would they go? That unknown building suddenly dropped into my thoughts, if they were trying to be subtle about it, they had failed. Best case scenario it was abandoned and besides the loss of equipment, Weyalni could&nbsp; not complain. Still I did not dare drop my guard, from the map it seemed moving clockwise would be the best way to secure the area and give us a firing advantage if things got serious. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>30-05-2010, 03:14:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay<br><br>"Yes sir.&nbsp; Reaper, you're with me in Bravo.&nbsp; Rome, you're with the LT.&nbsp; Zippo, take point with the flamethrower.&nbsp; I'll be behind you.&nbsp; Reaper, you follow me.&nbsp; Widow, bring up the rear.&nbsp; We'll be moving ahead, while Alpha watches the rear and provides cover fire if necessary.&nbsp; All right, people, move out."<br><br>As the squad began to secure the facility, his unease only continued to grow.&nbsp; " 'Looks like everybody just picked up and left.&nbsp; That never means anything good," he thought.&nbsp; On such a far-flung world, there was no place for them to go.&nbsp; He wondered what the colonists might have known that he didn't.&nbsp; <br><br>It took every ounce of his trained willpower to keep his dread in check.&nbsp; No matter what, he had a responsibility to fulfill the mission.&nbsp; Doubts should be listened to, but not allowed to take over one's thoughts.&nbsp; He was a Marine.&nbsp; He had fought the A.U.P.P. in the final years on New Taiwan.&nbsp; He had participated in the counter invasion on Giap's Point.&nbsp; He had conquered and reconquered his fear.&nbsp; He was not going to let his fear get the best of him.&nbsp; <br><br>"Check your corners.&nbsp; Watch for anything strange.&nbsp; Most of all, stay frosty."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sanai</strong> on <strong>30-05-2010, 10:46:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Reaper nodded in approval of being placed in the combat team, taking his position behind the Sarge. He followed O'Shay, keeping enough distance to avoid being a clumped up target, but staying close enough to assist the sarge. As they moved around the facility, he swung his rifle around, checking corners and investigating potential concealed positions. He had seen rebellions and evacuations and terrorist situations, but he had never seen a place abandoned like this, with no bodies or evidence left behind so far.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>30-05-2010, 12:19:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gizmo easily bypassed the service lock leading into the vehicle repair depot and the doors parted with a jolt, coughing out a rush of stale air from inside the compound. Rome covered the squad from his covered position, lifting his heavy M56 smart gun and sprinting to catch up only after the last of the squad had entered the building while Reaper and Widow covered his approach. Rome gave a quick look around as he lowered his weapon once again, sweeping it slowly from left to right as they carefully surveyed their surroundings. His motion detector pulsed and chirped, already seeming to be reading better now that they were inside and clear of the storm, though there still seemed to be some type of minor interference or loose connection somewhere.<br><br>Lt Mengsk quickly analyzed the situation, promptly issuing his orders. <strong>"Sarge, take point once more. Same as earlier. We are going clockwise, every room checked before we descend, if there is colonist in here we are bound to find them. Gizmo, shut these doors behind us and make sure they will open on code "Kilo"...like hell I am going to let anything come in after us."</strong> <br><br>MSgt. O’Shay acknowledged the Lieutenant’s order and delegated the squad into the most effective fireteams given their environment and the tasks at hand. <strong>"Yes sir.&nbsp; Reaper, you're with me in Bravo.&nbsp; Rome, you're with the LT.&nbsp; Zippo, take point with the flamethrower.&nbsp; I'll be behind you.&nbsp; Reaper, you follow me.&nbsp; Widow, bring up the rear.&nbsp; We'll be moving ahead, while Alpha watches the rear and provides cover fire if necessary.&nbsp; All right, people, move out."</strong><br><br>Rome settled back into his combat stance, leveling the business end of the <em>‘Sexy Beast’ </em> towards the door to the east of the room which that had just entered. <strong>”I guess it must be Bingo night,”</strong> Rome joked at the absence of any colonists, casting a jovial wink and flashing his brilliant, pearly white teeth in the form of a grin towards Widow as she passed behind him to take up her position with Bravo Team. <strong>”And whoever wins … gets EVERYTHING in the vehicle depot.”</strong><br><br>Senjo spoke out loudly to, addressing Lt. Mengsk. <strong>"Leftenant, my view is this workshop has been stripped clean to build defences elsewhere in the complex. The arc welders are not here, oxy-acetylene cylinder trolleys absent."</strong> Rome shrugged one shoulder, his face took on an expression that seemed to say <em>'Or that.'</em> <strong>"That was gonna be my next guess."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ReijiTabibito</strong> on <strong>31-05-2010, 02:59:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Following at the rear of the column, Yui used the Ape Suit’s special sensory equipment to keep tabs on the Marines at her back as she followed them towards the colony.&nbsp; Her 240 was pointed forward, ready to sweep out with a gout of flame at anything that looked, sounded, and moved hostile.&nbsp; As she continued to follow them, she continued the song in her head.<br><br><em>“A knight without armor in a savage land…”</em><br><br>The song was something that one of her buddies from Basic had taught her, which he himself had learned when he was just a kid on Earth.&nbsp; It, like Taku, had always been a bit reassuring for her to hear…especially when nothing happened.&nbsp; Like now.&nbsp; She hated nothing happening, it always left her on edge, made her feel like something was going to spring out of the dark and try and wax her.&nbsp; But, she was with the whole platoon, so if something was going to happen, someone would definitely notice it.<br><br>She hoped.<br><br>Soon enough, they reached the colony complex.&nbsp; The huge, forbidding building loomed in front of the Marines.&nbsp; Even more than the planet, it gave her the creeps.&nbsp; It looked like the place was on complete lockdown, no one and no thing moving.&nbsp; Quickly heading inside, they took up a holding position just inside the outer wall, and held there until they got the order to link up with the LT’s squad at one of the vehicle workshops.&nbsp; And what Yui saw there was not reassuring in the slightest.&nbsp; The place was empty – tools, vehicles, what-have-you.&nbsp; That smelled of hasty flight to the young PFC, and she couldn’t think of a reason the colonists would flee, even thought rebellion had been a worry here on the planet.<br><br>But, if there were rebels…wouldn’t they have seen them by now.<br><br>Then she heard the Sarge talking, rearranging the groups, and ordering her to take point.<br><br>“Gotcha, Sarge.”&nbsp; Hefting the 240, she took up the lead of the Sarge’s team.&nbsp; “Sarge, permission to speak freely,” she asked, as they prepared to move into the complex proper.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>31-05-2010, 03:26:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The Leftenant and the Sergeant organised the advance. I remained frozen, not moving, and of course not breathing, in the centre of the repair shop. Something about this place was talking to me. There was something here that my processors and databases and military tactical records of countless operations was not matching up. The initial reports of terrorism and the rumours of rebellion were labelled across this operation but there was no concrete data on which those labels could be solidly pinned, no transmissions from the colony that could attribute conventional hostile action at all.<br><br>Conventional hostile action will leave surface structure damage. It does. Always. It leaves bodies or the traces of the injured and broken equipment. If no bigger evidence it would leave spent ammunition cases. Currently nothing we were uncovering was matching the profile of a conventional armed event.<br><br>Concerned I opened a search file in my vast database and set it running. Unusual events, unusual weapons, non-standard tactical situations, even diseases that might strike an outpost down with something akin to mental instability. Someone had dismantled the comms arrays, whether by violence or derangement was another yet unanswered question.<br><br>I left the search pattern scrolling silently away and hefted my load once more. As the squad passed through the door signposted <em>"Wood Shop, Dining Hall, Hab Block,"</em> I took up a position towards the rear of the column and ahead of Private Law. I enabled my motion tracker and swung it to my right to scan through the corridor wall towards the interior of the structure. The Wood Shop was beyond this bulkhead and the Commissary beyond that. The XV-35 had an interior range of 50 metres but the readings could fog at this setting. I dialled it down to a 25 metre range and kept it observing to the right as we advanced.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>31-05-2010, 05:40:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>His bad feeling was getting worse by the second.&nbsp; "Check your mags! I want weapons charged! Put your motion trackers on and keep them on!" This was redundant, but he hadn't had such a bad feeling since the ambush at New Saigon. <br><br>Everything about this area and this situation just felt wrong.&nbsp; He needed the reassurance of at least knowing his team's weapons were ready.&nbsp; His Pulse Rifle and Magnum were of course in perfect working order.&nbsp; This paranoia had kept him alive longer than he could remember.&nbsp; He also switched on his Motion Tracker.&nbsp; It made a rhythmic "thump" noise not unlike a calm heartbeat, contrasting his own rapidly beating one.&nbsp; Hopefully, his heart would be the only thing thumping fast on this trip.<br>&nbsp;<br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3093739#msg3093739">Quote from: ReijiTabibito on 31-05-2010, 02:59:07</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><br><br>“Gotcha, Sarge.”&nbsp; Hefting the 240, she took up the lead of the Sarge’s team.&nbsp; “Sarge, permission to speak freely,” she asked, as they prepared to move into the complex proper.<br><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"Permission granted," he answered.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>31-05-2010, 05:49:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer didn't like the looks of the maintenance bay, tools were all gone and things looked generally creepy. It didn't appear as though some kind of rebellion had happened here, and now she was almost certain something else, much worse had happened. None of it fit together, no signs of any living souls what so ever except for the obvious and the disturbing. Jennifer was hesitant to guess what might have happened, but as things fell into place an uprising became less and less likely.<br><br>The order to move out came, and Jennifer was stuck in the rear. She disagree'd with sending the flamethrower first; shortest effective range, overall lowest firepower over a short time. But she did not want to argue, things were already making her feel grim and her combat senses were in a peak, the adrenaline was pumping now. As she fell in, Jennifer looked over at Rome and winked at him as she passed, giving him a thumbs up. "<strong>Stay hard Rome</strong>" She smirked, turning around and walking backwards as her team entered yet another abandoned section of the colony.<br><br>At this rate, Jennifer was certain they would not run into any colonists. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, in this situation that meant no mission went according to plan. Jennifer at this point figured, that might mean the whole plan itself goes out the window. On the Master Sergeant's instructions, Jennifer reached for her motion tracker and flipped it on, but didn't grab it and only held it up with one hand, her other keeping her rifle level. If something came up on the tracker, she'd hear it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sanai</strong> on <strong>31-05-2010, 08:59:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hearing the Sergeant's orders, and picking up on the tension in his voice, Reaper removed the magazine from his rifle, checked it, and slammed it back in, chambering a round and turning the safety off. He moved cautiously, careful not to disturb or trip on anything, careful to avoid making any noise. He could feel an ache between his shoulders, a strange tingling sensation he got sometimes when something just wasn't right. He did not like this situation, knowing the chances of something bad happening was climbing at a steady rate. He paused for a moment, pulling one of his stimpacks out of their pouch, and depressing the plunger slightly as he pressed it to his neck, giving himself a small dose to aclimatise himself to the combat drug, to avoid side-effects from larger doses that would come later, and to prepare himself for the worst. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>31-05-2010, 16:01:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay<br>As they began their patrol, he ordered them into an arrow formation.&nbsp; Zippo at the head, Reaper on the left, Widow in the back, and himself on the right.&nbsp; Flamethrowers were effective and their mere presence could scare into submission, but that came with the need for effective support.&nbsp; On the other hand, he hoped that the source of the colonist's disappearance might also be scared of fire.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>31-05-2010, 21:24:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The wood shop was also empty and stripped down in the same fashion as the repair depot. Who ever had done the job there had obviously come to the wood shop as well. There were piles of sawdust around all the work stations, as if before the shop had been cleared out every station had been at work. Each station seemed to have been abandoned as soon as what ever it was working on was finished, non of the non-portable tools were cleaned or even turned off, several sets of foot prints lead out of the wood shop the steps spread out as if the people had been running rather than simply walking. <br><br><br><br>All the lights were still functioning normally, but at the end of the hall, near the entrance to the hab block the air from&nbsp; the ground to about a foot and a half above it seemed to shimmer slightly, as if it's very density and composition was some how different after a certain height.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>31-05-2010, 22:43:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>Gizmo switched between each local security channel, his screen constantly a black abyss, a little bit too much in the zone to mind Rome's lewd joke. There were three in total in that room, according to the search result. None of them showed any more than an empty blank space where a visual of the inside should be. Not the familiar offline static from destroyed feeds. No traces of a security virus. Definately manual disconnection. Sabotage? Deliberate definately, but why? He stopped pondering over it as he heard his computer chirp a task complete, followed by the ding of a password accepted.<br><br><em>Open sesame.</em><br><br>Quickly snapping his computer back onto his belt and unplugging all the wires, he backed away quickly to rejoin the squad, raising his shotgun at the ready. Their first step into the interior, and it was already giving him the nerves just thinking of what may be behind those doors. For all he knew, it could be a door to the depths of Hell, and for all he knew, no conventional guns could hurt demons.<br><br><em>Beware the wrath and fury of the demon. For it comes for your blood and flesh. Hides from you when seen. Lashes at you when unseen.</em><br><br>He had to muster all his marine resolve to pray that nothing came out of those doors except stale air, and true enough to his relief, all that greeted his vision was a cleared out garage. Remaining as alert as he could, paranoia sending his senses on hyperdrive, he followed the squad inside. He made sure he captured every detail about the place, Senjo's theory noted and processed for future thought. Once the room was called clear of anything hostile, he lowed his shotgun slightly to give him a better view of the steel walls that now surrounded him. His vision was finally unimpaired by the elements, able to turn his sharp eyes around to sweep the stripped out bay several times. He was looking for the security cameras that he could not access. No such devices in sight. Just empty metal housings on the walls where they strategically should be. Looks like whoever took the tools and parts were also desperate enough to strip out the cameras. The obvious greasy stains of oil were what he noticed next. Dipping down quickly to probe a finger on the dried out liquid, he tested for age. They were dry enough to tell him that no one had been moving vehicles around for a very long time. The lack of tire tracks said the same thing.<br><br><em>What am I doing?</em><br><br>Hearing the order to shut the doors, Gizmo got onto it, punching into the console to close the things behind them. The whistling of the rain ceased as the air tight locks sealed, the portal from the real world to untold oblivion now nothing more than a locked gate. Setting the password was easy. A quick plug in and reprogramming only took 15 seconds. Their only secure exit could now only be opened by them with 'Kilo' as the new password. After he was done, he stowed his equipment once more, pulled out his motion tracker, and resumed tactical positioning as instructed by the COs on double. Of all things he did not want to be is left behind. Bringing up the rear was a frequent job for him. He was unsure if the two COs thought of him as being too valuable to lose or too ineffective as a frontline trooper. Either way, he was glad he was back here, even if the danger was apparently the same as being in front. He covered primarily their six, turning briefly to one, four, eight and eleven every now and then to watch their surroundings, noting any changes, searching for anything suspicious.<br><br>After moving up with them down the corridor, his peripherals sharply caught sight of the anomaly in the front, his senses instantly cranking up in gear to make sense of what he was seeing.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>01-06-2010, 06:44:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>I could sense the stress on every single one of my soldiers in Kilo, any doubt and fear they shoulders felt tripled on mine since their lives were in my hands. While I did not want them to ease up and relax, fear was far more crippling then anything I have come across in the past. My communication came as we entered the would shop, scanning the area and signaled to proceed.<br><strong>"Never lead your soldiers to battle if you have not first confirmed their spirit and known them to be without fear and ordered; and never test them except when you see that they hope to win."</strong><br>This was the nearest to a rallying cry they would get, I wanted their minds focused on the task at hand but with the words lingering for them to decipher as they wished. As we got closer to the other door I knelt down and placed my palm down on the floor. Something did not seem right, like if gravity was stronger or the air itself was visible in the lower areas along the floor. My polarized helm became clear for me to take a close look.<br><strong>"Anyone ever see something like this?"</strong><br>I was a little baffled at what I was seeing, making sure I took footage of the abnormality for review later on. The grip on my shot gun tightened as I rose and eyed back the path we came from...just in case. <br><strong>"Open the next door." </strong><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>01-06-2010, 23:25:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>Bravo Team entered the facility marked 'Wood Shop'. Corporal Beneke stood in the walkway ahead of me, covering the long passage with his SmartGun. I squatted to his left rear, placed down my load and unclipped my pulse rifle, bringing it up to check the magazine, unclipping it, running a visual and slamming it back into the housing. I flipped the safety off. I motion-tracked my front and left. Nothing. To our right the pulses of Bravo Team moving through the Wood Shop returned as clear images, moving away from us parallel to the walkway.<br><br>I sensed Private law behind me, waiting.<br><br>Ahead of us towards the junction in the walkway where our blueprints showed the Habitation Wing to be I noted the unusual tonal value in the air, a faint shimmer. I likened it to the haze zone often encountered in temperate Earth climates at an altitude of around one thousand feet AGL where a band of warm air would settle and moisture droplets would condense out. It was well know to aviators. A line dividing two zones of different temperature, though it was unknown within structures.<br><br>From this distance I could determine little although the line appeared to become more clearly defined towards the Hab Block doorway.<br><br><strong>"Do you see that Beneke? Law? What is it?"</strong> 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>02-06-2010, 04:56:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay<br><br>He felt the change in the air.&nbsp; It was a very humid feeling, the kind that just crept into one's bones.&nbsp; This was definitely not right.&nbsp; He looked up at the disturbing substance on the wall.&nbsp; He took another look at his Motion Tracker.&nbsp; Nothing.&nbsp; "Sir, does FATHER have any data on what this crap could be?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>02-06-2010, 08:06:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>(http://i133.photobucket.com/albums/q61/mrgerty/Characters/TERRYCREWS.jpg)<br><br>As Gizmo resealed the service lock doors behind us and reprogrammed the exit code to 'Kilo', the advancement orders and team assignments were delegated. Widow passed him and winked as she gave him a thumbs up. "<strong>Stay hard Rome</strong>," she said, moving into Bravo Team's rear position as they began to advance out of the garage and further into the complex.<br><br>Rome trailed Widow, moving into Alpha Team's point position following Bravo Team at a regulation distance, making sure not to bunch up. Rome smirked with a low chuckle at Widow's retort. The two had long shared a close professional relationship, each admiring the others' toughness and combat prowess. Often times, their mutual respect manifested itself in the form of playful banter and flirtations, each stroking the others' ego. <strong>"All night long, baby girl. Like a rock."</strong> <br><br>As the squad left the dismantled garage they entered a narrow hallway that prevented them from spreading out into any sound tactical formation save for a somewhat staggered column. Rome followed Bravo Team into the way, taking up a covering rear guard position at the next doorway as Alpha Team neared the wood shop behind Bravo Team. Rome's XV-35 was clearly picking up the motion signals of the squad ahead of as they moved ahead of his position. <br><br>Farther down the hall, near the sign that read 'Hab - Block'. Rome noticed a thick carpet of mist or smoke of some kind covering the floor. A line creased his forehead as he inspected the peculiar haze, unsure what to make of it. The Lieutenant spoke up then, asking the squad <strong>"Anyone ever see something like this?"</strong> Rome couldn't decide if had or hadn't. It looked similar to fog yet, frightfully bizarre.<br><br><strong>"Do you see that Beneke? Law? What is it?"</strong> Senjo had approached his position, kneeling behind him and to his left. <strong>"I don't know. It's not smoke from a fire. It's concentrated too low to the ground to be a fire. Besides, there's no fire alerts being broadcast and the fire suppression system obviously hasn't been activated."</strong> The crease on his forehead deepened as he pondered the mysterious haze. <strong>"Kinda looks like fog, but I ain't never seen fog indoors before. Maybe it's some kinda coolant leak or something."</strong> His expression evolved from suspicion into troubled as he glanced to his left at Senjo, slightly irritated by the unease caused by the enigmatic haze. <strong>"The fuck if I know. Ain't you the one with all the fuckin' database and shit in your computer brain? Giz you're pretty whiz, what's your <em>'diagnosis'</em>?"</strong> He emphasized the last word with much sarcasm. Lieutenant Mengsk's voice came over the comms as Rome refocused his attention down the corridor, expecting the unexpected. <strong>"Open the next door."</strong> <br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>02-06-2010, 12:53:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"The fuck if I know. Ain't you the one with all the fuckin' database and shit in your computer brain? Giz you're pretty whiz, what's your 'diagnosis'?"</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> I caught the emphasis of the SmartGunner's tone. <strong>"This is not a situation in which to become jumpy, Beneke,"</strong> I replied calmly, my eyes never leaving the shimmering haze layer. <strong>"I checked my tactical database and military records and there is no record of anything like this. Civilian files are clean too."</strong><br><br>I stared at the layer of moving shifting air ahead of us.<br><br>Then something clicked. It was so surprising that my eyes widened.<br><br><strong>"Wait."</strong> I flipped on the squad comms channel. <strong>"Leftenant. The visible air zone. I think it is a detection field. Salvage ship crews use a similar technique, though they use mobile systems; robotic scanners sent into derelict hulls and abandoned facilities. A passive laser field scans machinery spaces and cabins. It transmits back information that allows the salvage crews to build a 3D image of a ship's interior without risking a crewman going inside. I do not have a record of its military use, at least not in the visible spectrum but there is an equivalent in nature as well."</strong><br><br>I paused before saying what the data was I had uncovered, it sounded... stupid.<br><br><strong>"That would be... a spider's web."</strong><br><br><strong>"Furthermore,"</strong> I added, <strong>"My records indicate that Weyland-Yutani do not supply any passive or active laser scanning robotics in a standard terraforming colony inventory."</strong><br><br>My mind was running over the stripped vehicle maintenance shed, the apparent abandonment of this quadrant of the colony structure and the apparent need for the colonists to defend against an attacker. The numbers added up.<br><br><strong>"If it has been set up by the colonists as part of a defence layer, we should act on the expectation of the field to trigger a weapons system."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ReijiTabibito</strong> on <strong>02-06-2010, 18:17:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Taking point, Yui heard Sarge give her permission to speak.&nbsp; "Sarge, this place is giving me a full-on case of the creeps."&nbsp; But, she was a Marine, and even the creeps didn't give her pause.&nbsp; Instead, she just gripped the two-forty tighter and continued scanning the horizon of her vision for just about anything that moved.<br><br>As they moved forward, into the wood shop.&nbsp; That's when the column halted, at the sight of the shimmering air that hung in front of the door to the habitation complex.&nbsp; Stopping herself, Yui kept her eyes forward, as the rest of the platoon discussed what it just might be.&nbsp; Senjo had said that is was some sort of...detection field?&nbsp; Similar to what salvage crews used?<br><br>"Sarge?&nbsp; Remember that case of the creeps I mentioned earlier?&nbsp; It just hit Argos level."&nbsp; Yui was not a professional Marine - not like the LT, or Reaper, or Sarge.&nbsp; But there had been a couple of times where her gut instinct had kept them from making a bad decision.&nbsp; 'Argos level' referred to a policing operation - of illegal smugglers - that they had done during her time with the unit, on the world Argos.&nbsp; The story was long, and kinda complicated, but the short of it was was that a group of smugglers had set up an ambush for them, and Yui's 'bad feelings' had kept them from walking into it.<br><br>'Argos level' was, in effect, the term Yui used for when everything felt really wrong.&nbsp; "And Senjo, answer me this.&nbsp; If there is a detection field set up by the colonists here...<br><br><br>...<em><strong>why haven't we seen or heard even one</strong></em>?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Miles Trent</strong> on <strong>02-06-2010, 19:37:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>PFC Nortan 'Gizmo' Law</strong><br><br>It was a piece of tiny detail. That hazy layer of something struck Gizmo straight away as suspicious and worth shooting at to make sure nothing was hiding in it. Refraining himself from squeezing any triggers, he listened to his squadmates nearby, being mindful still to maintain part of his job as read guard, making sure to be behind Senjo and past the doorway. With his facing on their six to keep his vision and XV35 in that direction, he backpaddled slightly to stop in a low crouch close to the wall on his left.<br><br>"I dunno what that is from this distance. My best guess is a gas leak. Dining halls just some ways close by." He said to Rome, turning briefly, "Not surprising for the place to fall apart without anyone maintaining its guts."<br><br>Something in his mind told him otherwise. In light of the LT's rhetorical question, he was close to giving the CO a straight answer. The wierd mist, the ominous environment, the wrenching feeling he gets just by noticing it. It was all too familiar in a grimly nostalgic sense of way. Every part of his body was screaming danger. The situation could escalate at any second. His nerves could take little else if something jumped out and attacked them. He took a couple of sniffs of the air. Stale. Mighty pungent with the residual greasy scent from the garage. Something strangely unidentifiable mixed in the humidity. However, nothing toxic that he could identify, nor flammable, at least from this distance. Whatever it was, it was isolated in that area in front of the hub block.<br><br>He spoke again after he heard of Senjo's new theory, "A trap to keep something out.... Means there could be something, or somebody, inside.... From the looks of it, if Senjo is right, that system could be active and pointed right at us."<br><br>Not very odd for 'Big Brother WY' to issue non standard equipment and keep them out of the records. They could smuggle in and hide a tank if they wanted to and nobody would suspect a thing. The infamous megacorp from Hell, holds monopolies in a huge variety of arms, robotics and other hardware across the whole known galaxy. They could do anything they wanted and pretty much get away with it without anyone even noticing. If it werent for Colonel Hayes, Gizmo would just be like any other another marine serving the Corps. If it werent for Colonel Hayes, his eyes wouldnt have been so wide open. If things were as he had been told, he would have to assume the worst and expect anything. A possible active sentry gun waiting on the other side of that door would be the least of his worries. Maybe something was waiting in the corridor leading to the dining hall.<br><br>Then the order came. LT had ordered for the next door to be opened. According to the intel and the lights on the console next to it, it wasnt locked, so his expertise wasnt needed up front. He had an idea though. Since they were inside, the whole corridor and the rest of the building should have a local comms network. It should be easier to patch into any security network in here than outside. He didnt need dishes to connect via wire analog. All he needed was to patch into the nearest network hub and hope it works. Seemed like a long shot after seeing what happened to the cameras in the garage, but he could give it another try.<br><br>"If anyone could spot me a network hub, I could try patch into the security system in any room near it. Maybe I could get us an eyeball on whats inside them before we get goin." He spoke.<br><br>They looked like some panels on the walls about a foot tall and a foot wide, something like a box, with lots of red and green pipes connected to its sides. If WY hasnt changed their standard colony infrastructure, they should be around here in these corridors. The squad had dealt with them before, so everyone should be familiar with what to look for. He had done a lot of study and tinkering with WY electronics in the past, most of the time illegally, so much so that he was familiar with how their computers talked to each other on a standard scale. It was a lot of complicated things working like an orchestra of geeky dreams, a maze of information being passed around in a mess of electronic superhighways. The size of the network was not important as long as he knew the distinct patterns of programs and their functions, as well as where he was in the network. To him, a network the size of a colony like this should not be too difficult to tackle.... that is if the systems worked as they should. He could do nothing if there were broken hubs or damaged wires.<br><br>All this technical thinking calmed him down some, and he was suddenly reminded of Senjo and his one sided rivalry with her. If they plugged her in, she could do his job minutes faster than what he could do. Pushing aside that feeling of his shattering ego once more, he kept his ground in the rear, waiting for them to move up or anything to happen. He was not up for banter with this squad mates in the current situation. He was too busy nursing his nerves with constant attention to his surroundings, looking for anything else out of the ordinary.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>02-06-2010, 20:07:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Just before the door to the habblock was a door labeled "dining hall entrance 1" The door was locked, and it's control panel had been smashed almost beyond recognition, who ever had locked this door had wanted to make sure no one would open it again and in doing so had taken things to a whole new level. The door itself was welded shut, it's edges were now fused to the door frame. <br><br><br>The door to the habblock lay open it's control panel flashing bright red as opposed to the calm green that doors in working order normally displayed. There word "breach" flashed on and off along the front of the control pad. The fog at the door was so thick that it was impossible to see the bottom foot of the room without waving away the fog. <br><br><br>As soon as one looked through the door they would be able to tell that something was drastically wrong. The hab block consisted of two rows of small 'houses' built into the left and right walls, each line of 'houses' was two levels high, with the 'houses' built above and beside one another each one was divided from the next by a single wall on each side, and a ceiling for the bottom house which served as the floor for the top one. Every house was empty of human life, doors were left ajar, belongings scattered about every floor and outside the doors. As if a massive evacuation had taken place and only the most precious of belongings had been grabbed, built around the door on the opposite side of the hab block lay a make shift barricade. The barricade itself was about waist height, and made from a mixture of household furniture. It was completely unmanned and seemed to have been thrown up with no real thought, as if simply there to be difficult to get across.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>03-06-2010, 19:16:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br><strong>"If your safety is on, now is the time to take it off...whatever the fuck is going on here...shoot first we will ask or make up the questions later."</strong><br>My gut told me something was wrong, I had tried to communicate with FATHER sending the data about the fog but had to wait for anything back. Everything was starting to add up, this was not colonist activity...something else, something covered up by the brass I just knew it. <br><strong>"Stay alert, keep moving... go go go..." </strong><br>I pointed down the empty hab lock towards the direction of the school, to check if that door was welded shut also. Something was in there and did not want us going in or out, I would be making the report in the end and as far as I was concerned these colonist were hostile. <br><strong>"If the door up ahead is welded shut then blow the son of a bitch open." </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>04-06-2010, 01:24:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay<br><br>"Move it! Double time!" he whispered loudly.&nbsp; Communications were still out.&nbsp; FATHER couldn't be reached.&nbsp; This place was already looking FUBAR.&nbsp; Half of his mind wanted to know what was going on.&nbsp; The other half didn't.&nbsp; That strange warm mist didn't give the feeling of anything human made which set the hair on his neck on edge.&nbsp; This was very bad.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>05-06-2010, 21:35:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_27.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_26.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_25.jpg)<br><br>While I had misgivings about the ground-haze, we had a mission to accomplish and holding position in the wood shop was not going to save these colonists. The advance continued until the squad penetrated the haze with no discernible response from any defence weapons or defenders monitoring it. Possibly the system was still operating after those who established it were defeated and their defences offline.<br><br>Bravo Team turned right through a hatchway marked 'Hab Block' and a scene of complete devastation met our eyes. Studying the scattered debris of the living quarters it was apparent the place had been ransacked for anything useful before being abandoned, the colonists having moved ahead of us and built a makeshift barricade leading to the walkway that served to give access to the far side of the colony main complex. To our right was a hatchway stencilled 'School' while at the end of the destroyed Hab Block was a stairwell leading to the upper level.<br><br>My attention was drawn to the stairwell. On the second level was the Control Room, Science Lab and Armoury, all key zones.<br><br>I noted that the ground haze was much thicker in the Hab Block.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_28.jpg)<br><br><strong>"Whoever built that barricade - were they defending against something coming from this direction - or the far side?"</strong> It was most logical that the latter was the case since that placed the stairwell inside the colonists - or rebels? - defences.<br><br>In the Hab Block the scattered debris showed evidence of the colony before disaster - whatever it's nature - had struck.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/WeylandYutani-Eden.jpg)&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/LV-1875.jpg)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>06-06-2010, 05:19:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The first signs of the hab blocks entrance were invisible to her, she was occupied watching the doors the team had just entered. She saw the strange mist, smoke... whatever it was upon entering, but the partial darkness in front of her was more and less intriguing. The sounds of the dead colony were captivating as well, sometimes you heard something and others you didn't, sometimes noises weren't there, your mind was just associating other things with a noise. The dull blip of the motion tracker, footsteps and the rustling of weapon against body armor, breathing and even her own heartbeat. She could hear alot but hear nothing, nothing she cared about. All Jennifer needed right now was something to give this place life, something like a laugh, a creek, footsteps other then Kilo's, hushed whispers... anything to prove that this wasn't just another time when the Marines showed up after the horrors had been done. <br><br>Jennifer was certain, as she entered the hab block and really noticed the mist. It was more like a fog, but that wasn't really possible indoors. And it was a uniform, dull chill, actually considered warm considering she was still dripping wet. Her attention left the formation rear and she let go of her motion tracker, there were others with trackers around and hers was still on. She slowly moved into the rooms center and scanned it with her rifle up, the strewn mess scattered about really proved to her that the rebellion idea was completely done. People don't run away with this kind of panic from their own free will, something else had happened here, this much was obvious.<br><br>The misty smoke in the hab block, fog, steam, whatever it was... was also on her mind. As Jennifer pushed an empty suitcase open with her foot, she could barely see the floor even directly beneath her. Even littered with discarded personal items from fleeing colonists, pieces of debris from broken items and scattered paper, even some childrens toys. The hab block was gloomy, even more so compared to the little of the facility that had been seen, but an overall sense of despair was heavy in this room particular; the barricade, the ground littered with personal items, childrens toys. Something had scared these colonists bad enough to flee this quickly. <br><br>With the stairs in sight, Jennifer looked over at the Lieutenant waiting for his orders. She grabbed her motion tracker and swept it around towards the stairs, still holding her rifle but it was aimed harmlessly towards the ground. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>06-06-2010, 07:08:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>Rome moved forward with the rest of Kilo, his eyes growing wide with surprise he entered the Hab Block. <strong>"Fuck ME."</strong> Rome whispered as he surveyed the room. His motion tracker thumped at him like a mechanical heartbeat, still showing no returns on its view screen. He swept the room with wide, arcing movements; left and right, up and down. Rome was confused at the devastation he saw. It was totally foreign from anything he'd ever witnessed before. Nothing added up. Nothing made sense. <strong>"What the fuck happened here, Lieutenant? What the fuck is going on? Everyone lose their goddamned minds in this colony?"</strong> Rome had a bad feeling in his gut and it was beginning to manifest as he began spouting off even more than normal. <br><br>He noticed as Widow kicked open a suitcase, though the strange fog on the floor made it difficult to make out most of what was lying around. <strong>"I don't like this, Sarge. I don't like this one goddamned bit. Where the fuck is everyone? More importantly, what the fuck where they running from?"</strong> He wasn't yelling, he wasn't losing his cool, he was just talking too much, though he still maintained a moderate volume.<br><br>Reaching the stairs at the far end of the Hab Block, he swept his smartgun upwards, stopping a few paces behind Widow. <strong>"Jackie's Hope... "</strong> Rome whispered in a sarcastic tone. <strong>"... hoping to get the fuck out of here."<strong></strong></strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>06-06-2010, 12:09:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I saw the staircase and only considered descending for a brief second when I realized the main floor of the colony had not been secured and swept yet. The thing that ate at me the most was the lack of a fall back spot, an area to make a stand and fight. As it stood we were nothing more than rats in a maze and that gnawed at my belly like the worse pains one could imagine. I looked over at Senjo, she was our portable armory. In a matter of moments those guns could set up a sliver of security and I was willing to leap on it and on top of that she could load into the colony's main frame and possibly even get the entire system up and running in a matter of minutes. The Hab lock was large and ominously empty but it would serve well. We would be able to see from multiple directions and it had multiple routes for escape if shit went sour. <br><strong>"They must have locked themselves out, Rome."</strong><br>I chuckled and flashed a quick grin through my face plate, the damn helmet was starting to get on my nerves. Now was not the time to show uncertainty and I figured a little joke would ease the tension if only for a brief moment. <br><br><strong>"Senjo, set up right here...if all goes well you can hook up into the Colony's main frame from that access point."</strong><br>I pointed at control panel that should have opened the hatches to the bottom floor and into the control room, we would be there soon enough. <br><strong>"Yui you are staying back with us here, in the hab lock."</strong><br><br>Pointing at the door the reformed bravo and back up team would soon take. <br><strong>"Sarge you are leading Reaper and Gizmo to sweep and secure the rest of this level before we go down, Reaper you have point. Window and Rome I want you one room behind Bravo at all times in the event they need cover or suppressive fire for any reason. Giz you open the doors along the way and make sure you are up linked with Senjo and I at all times."</strong><br>Breaking us up would help us move faster I hoped, I had broken us up in the most even groups possible to keep maximum efficiency. <br>My attention turned to some of the make shift barricades in case I needed some cover, always trying to think a few steps ahead.<br><strong>"Now let's find out what the hell happened so we can get the fuck off this rock."&nbsp; </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>06-06-2010, 21:23:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3118403#msg3118403">Quote from: Corvus on 06-06-2010, 07:08:28</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>He noticed as Widow kicked open a suitcase, though the strange fog on the floor made it difficult to make out most of what was lying around. <strong>"I don't like this, Sarge. I don't like this one goddamned bit. Where the fuck is everyone? More importantly, what the fuck where they running from?"</strong> He wasn't yelling, he wasn't losing his cool, he was just talking too much, though he still maintained a moderate volume.</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"Rome, hold it together," O'Shay said tersely.&nbsp; The anxiety was becoming palpable.&nbsp; This was like something out of a horror vid and he hated it as much as they did.&nbsp; <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3118403#msg3118403">Quote from: Corvus on 06-06-2010, 07:08:28</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"> " Rome whispered in a sarcastic tone. <strong>"... hoping to get the fuck out of here."<strong><br></strong></strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"Quickly in, quickly out.&nbsp; Keep it together until the 'out' part.&nbsp; When we get back to the ship, first round's on me."<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3118844#msg3118844">Quote from: Aiden on 06-06-2010, 12:09:19</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><br><strong>"They must have locked themselves out, Rome."</strong><br><br><br>Pointing at the door the reformed bravo and back up team would soon take. <br><strong>"Sarge you are leading Reaper and Gizmo to sweep and secure the rest of this level before we go down, Reaper you have point. Window and Rome I want you one room behind Bravo at all times in the event they need cover or suppressive fire for any reason. Giz you open the doors along the way and make sure you are up linked with Senjo and I at all times."</strong><br><br><strong>"Now let's find out what the hell happened so we can get the fuck off this rock."&nbsp; </strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>He had to smile at the LT's black humor.&nbsp; He had a knack for it.&nbsp; "Yes, sir.&nbsp; Gizmo, you're on point.&nbsp; Don't worry.&nbsp; I'll be right behind you.&nbsp; Motion trackers on.&nbsp; Sweep regularly.&nbsp; If there's something here I don't want it sneaking up on us.&nbsp; Move out."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>07-06-2010, 00:15:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>As soon as the Leftenant ordered the Hab Block be held as a defensive position I began. The priority was to set up the sentries with the optimal field of fire and that required some conditionals. I dropped the two drums and the ammunition bags in the centre of the main floorspace and spoke to Mengsk.<br><br><strong>"Sir, there are two tactical options for positioning the guns, the first..."</strong> I stopped and scanned about. Leaning against the wall of a dwelling unit was a broken piece of what appeared to be interior ceiling tile, a half-metre square of white foam-plastic. I went to it and picked it up, pulling a marker device from my coat inner pocket and returning to the stacked drums. I used the drums as a makeshift desk and began to quickly sketch out the Hab Block and adjacent walkways using their real dimensions as I had calculated by eye.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Hab-Block-Defence.jpg)<br><br><strong>"The ideal location for both guns is here... and here..."</strong> I marked the gun positions for A and B outside the Hab Block doors facing down the long walkways. <strong>"Each gun can sanitise in three axes, the main one being down approximately one hundred metres of access corridor. They can also fire along the length of the Hab Block. In a scenario in which the guns fire <em>into</em> the Hab Block, the most secure location for the platoon CP is just <em>here</em>, inside the corridor that accesses the School or the corner adjacent to the stairwell. However with both guns outside the Hab Block I will need to clear this walkway <em>here</em>."</strong> I marked it with a 'C'. <strong>"I'm willing to do that on my own, I can move quickly and almost silently. It should require less than one minute."</strong><br><br><strong>"The second position is <em>here, within</em> the Hab Block itself, gun A facing left, gun B right but placed offset so that it covers the stairwell and School-Dining Block access. The guns can elevate thirty degrees so in the event of targets accessing the Hab Block's upper walkway, or the stairwell, those zones will be covered. I will limit the gun scanners not to sweep for targets behind them, giving this area here as the platoon CP."</strong> I indicated a zone in a circle between the guns. <strong>"It is exposed however, though some of the dwellings may provide hard cover."</strong> I looked around at the debris left by fleeing families.<br><br><strong>"I am constructing a scenario of the sequence of events here based on what we have found. The cleared out Vehicle Bay and Wood Shop and the welded shut walkway door near the Wood Shop suggests the colonists retreated from the outside of the colony structure to the interior. The barricade there~"</strong> I touched my marker to the far Hab Block door near the proposed site of gun B, <strong>"~suggests that was their other perimeter, though a weak one. A sweep of the School, Dining Block and Commissary should confirm this. Whether the last stand was in the School-Dining zones or on the upper level of the structure would be determined by whether the attackers assaulted from ground up or from the upper level down."</strong><br><br>I was still considering a scenario where the colonists had ruptured into two opposing groups and fought among themselves. I had many questions however, the most pressing being the source of the ground haze and the others should be answered upon access to the colony's mainframe. As soon as our defences were established that was the next task.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>08-06-2010, 08:36:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hearing the analysis I replied quickly. <br><strong>"Keep them close, we need to be ready to pack up and move at any moment...once the teams return we are moving on. We can get nice and comfortable later."</strong><br>Shifting my attention to my computer I listened in on what was going on past those doors with the other two teams I had sent out, my ever vigilant eye keep a look out on our own position a trait I had picked to be in two places at one time. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>09-06-2010, 12:53:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Benke</strong><br><br>Rome closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply through his nose. A bizarre odor filled his nostrils but he brushed away the question already forming in his mind. He cleared his mind of all the confusion, all the unanswered questions that ran rampant through his mind like a dozen bulls in a small china shop. He couldn’t answer them all right now, nor could anyone else. This mission had deviated severely from every other mission they had been tasked with in the past... they were in uncharted territory now. Every question simply created another question, leaving the answers lost in a sea of even more questions. He held his deeply inhaled breath around 10 seconds before he slowly exhaled from his mouth, altering his mindset from one of confusion and anxiety, to one of survival… lethality. He flexed his fingers and hand, reacquiring his grip on his M56 smart gun as he opened his eyes again. A sinister glower covered his already daunting visage as he drew near to Widow. <br><br>Reaching up with one hand, he covered the boom mic to his helmet mounted radio. <strong>”I got your back baby girl”</strong> He said quietly to Widow over her shoulder as he approached her, giving her a firm downward slap on the shoulder of her armor. Aside from Senjo, none of the others in the squad heard his remark to Widow. He never called her anything other than Widow in front of the others, except for the times when he was teasing or playing some practical joke. But this was neither a tease nor a practical joke. It was a closeness, a mutual professional respect and admiration between Widow and Rome and he was assuring his teammate that he wouldn’t let her down, that he was together and ready for anything. <br><br>He thumbed over the safety switch on his weapon, double-checking that the safety was off; it was. He checked the ammo readout; 500. He removed his hand from the radio’s boom mic. <strong>”cocked, locked and ready to rock, Ooh-rah! Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me, Sarge.”</strong> He glanced back to MSgt. O’Shay and winked brazenly. He turned again, focusing his attention on the task at hand as he followed Widow and Bravo Team. <br><br>(http://i133.photobucket.com/albums/q61/mrgerty/Scene%20Settings%20and%20Logos/pic-113.jpg)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>09-06-2010, 17:27:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer milled her time by watching the doors they'd come from, and occasionally glancing about to see other parts of the hab block. It was a pretty big room, though clearly undersized for its intended application. Jennifer didn't like colonists, they'd caused a lot more problems then they'd solved and she had never been on a terraformed paradise, so the reasons fell short of her understanding. But at the same time, these kinds of conditions made her feel a slight spark of pity for the poor sobs. Doing hard work and living in a hell hole on some foreign planet, so far from real civilization that it begins to fuck with your mind, it was thes ame thing as a deep space patrol for a year straight. You get... disconnected, from the reality of your existance. Nothing but endless blackness outside everyday, and you can't even go look. The odd jump down to a moon to scour for pirates, one had a lot of time to set things straight so long as you didn't go insane, like a few guys Jennifer had known.<br><br>That feeling vibrated through her again as Lieutenant Mengsk issued out their updated orders. She glanced over at Rome as he approached and gave her a firm tap on the shoulder, she smiled at him as he spoke and winked, stepping a bit closer. <br><br>"<strong>Don't get too distracted back there..</strong>" She smirked, flipping the safety on her weapon off and finding the Sarge.<br><br>She approached him but kept her distance, she wanted to separate at least 15 feet but keeping within visual attachment, to ensure a grenade or something wouldn't take them all out but they didn't separate. In the back of her mind, Jennifer was a little bit in a disagreement with sweeping the first floor, she would prefer to find a secure CP and then setting up OP's until they got the security systems online. A particular incident refreshed in her mind, where a colony Kilo had been sent to investigate for terrorist activity had an automated security defense system set up to deal with any pirates or invaders, should the need arise. The IFF tags Kilo carried had mistakenly given them away as Colonial Administration. The look on the Weyland Yutani colonial supervisor as he came out to greet the people who kept him in business, and instead found a squad of heavily armed Marines knocking on his door was beyond priceless. <br><br>No such joys today.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>10-06-2010, 05:15:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The halls remained silent, still, and for lack of a better word lifeless.......that is until every active motion sensor in bravo team went off. There was something in the fog!! And it was moving fast, in the opposite direction of the team!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>11-06-2010, 16:47:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Keep them close, we need to be ready to pack up and move at any moment...once the teams return we are moving on. We can get nice and comfortable later."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> <strong>"Aye, aye, sir."</strong><br><br>A gun was a straightforward task to set up. I planted it in the centre of the Hab Block main floor seventy-three percent of the distance towards the stairwell. With a narrow fire lane that was straight and ended at a single entry door, it was a classic killing zone. Kilo would not need to worry about anything coming that way, on either the ground level or the walkway of the upper Habitation Units. Anything small enough to get through that bulkhead door would die before it had covered ten paces. I plugged in the ammunition drum, deselected the manual safety and set up the control console on an old office desk that had been tumbled out of one of the dwellings. I dialled up the gun's targeting system, selected a soft visual wavelength target as the gun's parameters and then concentrated on gun B.<br><br><strong>"Leftenant, A gun is live. Do not walk down there with your pants off."</strong><br><br>(http://designbivouac.typepad.com/designbivouac/images/sentry00_1.jpg)<br><br>B gun was troublesome. The site and angles of possible hostile intrusion were problematic. I finally selected a site almost opposite the stairwell on the north side of the Hab Block's main floor with the killing zone sweeping from the small service stair to the upper level of dwelling units on the left, through ninety degrees to the main stairwell on the right. This included the corridor down which Bravo were patrolling but there were no other options that left too much unguarded. I loaded, armed and selected target type for B gun then squatted down on a broken chair with both guns' control boards to await events, the bulk of my attention focussed on B gun. When Bravo returned I would reselect its safety.<br><br>My M41 was on the desk at my elbow. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>11-06-2010, 20:10:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay<br><br>His motion sensor rhythmic thump was quickly replaced by the disconcerting "waa-waa" noise.&nbsp; Just as soon as it appeared, it started to "run" from them.&nbsp; "Keep it together, Marines.&nbsp; That might be a survivor." O'Shay opened his radio channel.&nbsp; This was important enough to do so.&nbsp; "Sir, we got an unknown on the motion trackers.&nbsp; No visuals yet.&nbsp; Bravo proceeding to investigate." "All right, Marines.&nbsp; Don't get jumpy.&nbsp; Follow the blip, but watch all angles." He didn't want to say it, but he still had a bad feeling.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>11-06-2010, 22:26:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				What ever was causing the readings continued to retreat away from Bravo team, moving fast but not fast enough to lose them in the direction of the school. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>12-06-2010, 05:58:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay<br><br>The blip's behavior was reminding him of a dog playing a chasing game.&nbsp; Did this thing WANT them to follow it? Perhaps into a trap? He wasn't going to let that happen.&nbsp; "Hold up.&nbsp; Take up defensive positions.&nbsp; Lieutenant, the blip is continuing to move in the direction of the school.&nbsp; It looks like it wants us to follow it.&nbsp; This smells like a trap.&nbsp; What are your orders?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>12-06-2010, 13:02:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>Hearing the radio chatter of a contact I was confused. It was a straight walkway to the School less than fifty metres long. The colony's lights were on. Did they not have a visual?<br><br>Over the open channel I asked, <strong>"Leftenant, the target might be small. Moving below the haze layer. A child perhaps. Or an animal."</strong><br><br>It was rare for colonists to bring dogs and cats out with them on their new lives and worlds but not unknown.<br><br><em>Or it could be moving below the floor gratings. In the service ducts.</em> I rose from my sentry control desk and moved out past B gun to the foot of the stairwell and through the doorway of the corridor leading to the School. Just beyond the door I squatted down to examine the floor plates and cabling ducts. Was there room for a human or smaller animal to move about under there? If there was we might have problems making any perimeter inside the colony structure secure.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>14-06-2010, 21:40:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><strong>"One verbal warning sarge, if no response you are clear to pump whatever it is full of lead...I'm done playing the guessing game."</strong><br>I was ordered to keep casualties low, but a small child would not be running away. I had been on rescue missions in the past, children stayed in one place and remained deathly silently so I was sure that whatever was causing a stir on the trackers was bad. Never the less I had to make sure I followed protocol, it would be bad to return to the ship only to a court martial. With my links to FATHER, I was sure a few eyes were on us down here, my computer trying to make sense on what it was reading on the scanners. <br><br>Glancing over towards Senjo I shook my head.<br><strong>"Any animal would flee in danger, like rats fleeing a sinking ship...I don't think it is an animal...child...my gut says no, no person would bring a child on to this rock. Then again we are talking about colonist." </strong><br>I grinned a brief moment before turning my attention to my computer to wait for updates from the two teams I had out there. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>14-06-2010, 22:05:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br><strong>"The colony supports families, Sir,"</strong> I said, pointing to the teddy bears and other scattered toys on the floor of the Hab Block. <strong>"And if it was a pet such as a dog, it would run if it was afraid. There has been a serious incident here. Fighting. Any pet animal might be scared."</strong><br><br>Investigating the floor gratings had drawn a blank, there was no way to get under them unless the animal was small, like a rat and the chances of vermin being on a colony where every single thing came here by fully quarantined company shuttles was so unlikely as to be zero. There were no access ducts either. I spoke over the comms channel again.<br><br><strong>"I have checked the gratings in the floor of the walkway. There is no room for a person or anything bigger than a rat to get under it. If you cannot get a visual, whatever it is must be small and moving below the haze layer."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>15-06-2010, 01:31:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>Rome moved cautiously through the corridor which lead to the school and other areas beyond that. Widow was about 7 paces ahead of Rome and trailing behind Bravo Team, per Lieutenant Mengk's orders. Bravo Team was nearing the end of that corridor and the entrance to the school. The haze persisted throughout the corridor and seemingly into the school. <br><br>A sly smile barely creased the corners of his mouth at Widow's tease, <strong>"Don't get too distracted back there..."</strong>. Normally, he would crack some dirty joke or sexual innuendo about Widow's well toned backside, but ironically, he was too distracted to think on such things. However, to keep up appearances and his reputation he made a half-hearted effort without actually directing his attention to her rear end. <strong>"Looking good back here Widow, as always."</strong><br><br>Suddenly, Rome's motion tracker, along with everyone else's, deviated from its rhythmic 'pulse' as it growled its warning of movement directly ahead of Bravo Team's current position and moving away from them into the school area. <strong>"Contact! Front!"</strong> Rome whispered excitedly through his comms channel along with most of Kilo squad, everyone seemed to all speak at once calling out the contact.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3141244#msg3141244">Quote from: CmdrRenegade on 11-06-2010, 20:10:07</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Keep it together, Marines.&nbsp; That might be a survivor." O'Shay opened his radio channel.&nbsp; This was important enough to do so.&nbsp; "Sir, we got an unknown on the motion trackers.&nbsp; No visuals yet.&nbsp; Bravo proceeding to investigate." "All right, Marines.&nbsp; Don't get jumpy.&nbsp; Follow the blip, but watch all angles." He didn't want to say it, but he still had a bad feeling.<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Rome turned to check their rear quickly. He detected no motion behind them save that of that the Lieutenant, Zippo and Senjo, whom he noticed was setting up the Sentry Guns. Without giving it another thought, he turned back around and continued following Widow. After carefully moving a few more paces down the haze-filled corridor Sarge's voice came over the radio.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3143469#msg3143469">Quote from: CmdrRenegade on 12-06-2010, 05:58:05</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Hold up.&nbsp; Take up defensive positions.&nbsp; Lieutenant, the blip is continuing to move in the direction of the school.&nbsp; It looks like it wants us to follow it.&nbsp; This smells like a trap.&nbsp; What are your orders?"<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br><strong>"A trap?"</strong> Rome said to Widow, though not over the radio. <strong>"These bitches wanna play games? Let's you and me waste these motherfuckers and get the hell out of&nbsp; this shithole, whataya say Widow?"</strong> He joked with a smirk at his suggestion, though he was at least partly serious as he was done dicking around and wanted to be done with this mission. The overall foreboding sense of doom was not something he was accustomed to and it hung thick in the air here on LV-1875.<br><br>Rome held position some paces behind Widow as they awaited further orders. Finally, he heard the Lieutenant call the orders to Sarge over the radio: <br><strong>"</strong><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3153616#msg3153616">Quote from: Aiden on 14-06-2010, 21:40:38</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"One verbal warning sarge, if no response you are clear to pump whatever it is full of lead...I'm done playing the guessing game."</strong> <br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br><strong>"That's what I'm talking about!"</strong> He said to Widow with a wicked grin to her, leaving his transmit button off as he spoke. <strong>"The Lieutenant fuckin' read my mind. Let's rip this shit up, baby. Ooh-Rah!"</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ReijiTabibito</strong> on <strong>15-06-2010, 04:44:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Yui entered the habitation block with the rest of Kilo, she kept Two-Forty sweeping in an open arc that wasn't occupied by any of her platoon mates.&nbsp; &nbsp; Even with her constant vigilance, though, she could see the setup here in the hall.&nbsp; And what she saw made her fear for anyone who had been in here.&nbsp; Things had been stripped, ransacked, torn apart, for materials to build what were decidedly makeshift at best defenses.&nbsp; This was crazy, what sort of...threat could cause such panic?&nbsp; Sure, there were reports of rebellion on site, but...this reeked of desperation, of people fighting for their very lives.&nbsp; What was worse was the silence.&nbsp; There was nothing, nothing except the sounds that Kilo was making as they moved through the complex.&nbsp; It was like they had just entered a ghost town...a thought which creeped Yui out immensely.<br><br>Arriving at a stopping point, she kept everyone covered while the LT handed out new orders for the squad.&nbsp; She was to stay with the LT and Senjo here, while the rest of Kilo cleared the floor.&nbsp; She nodded.&nbsp; "Gotcha, LT.&nbsp; I'll keep the short range covered."&nbsp; Senjo's pair of automated sentry guns would pick up anything that moved in the distance, and if they managed to get past the guns to this point, then she could fry them with Two-Forty.<br><br>Keeping the area covered, she heard the chatter over the comm that something was moving around out there...Yui flipped on her motion tracker.&nbsp; If that something was gonna come this way...she'd be ready for it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>15-06-2010, 15:13:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3153616#msg3153616">Quote from: Aiden on 14-06-2010, 21:40:38</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><strong>"One verbal warning sarge, if no response you are clear to pump whatever it is full of lead...I'm done playing the guessing game."</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"Ooh-rah, sir.&nbsp; All right, Marines, I'll take point.&nbsp; Continue advancing towards the school." As they moved on, he continued watching the motion sensor, observing the behavior of the blip.&nbsp; Once he approached within 20 meters of the door, he ordered, "Take up firing positions on the door. Widow, watch our six." Once the squad had deployed he yelled out, "This is Sgt. O'Shay of the Colonial Marines! Come out with your hands above your head and you won't be harmed.&nbsp; You've got 10 seconds to respond!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>15-06-2010, 17:53:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer concentrated on going between visual scans and her motion trackers screen, slowly rotating most of her upper body to follow the device, she attended her focus to watching the walls and floors, the possibility of ambush could come from anywhere and she needed to be ready. If the motion tracker didn't light up quick enough, her reaction would hopefully save Bravo from a rear ambush. She craned her head around to catch a glimpse of Rome doing his thing behind her, or at least his combat thing. Jennifer realised she probably shouldn't have teased him, but if anything Rome was cool enough to shoot the bad guys then take aim at her, and it wasn't so uncommon that the situation came up, he was just smart enough to know not to push it too much. Jennifer had a reputation, after all.<br><br>As Bravo moved, Jennifer didn't exactly know where they were but from the maps and plans, guessed they were approaching either the school or moving horizontal with the hab block. If the opportunity arose, she'd memorize the maps. For now, she knew where the hospital and such things were, everything else was just 'that room' as far as she was concern. Every step seemed to echo, and the other thing Jennifer could hear besides the many motion trackers, the <em>clink clink</em> footsteps of Bravo, was her own tense breathing and rapid heart beat. She grinned at Rome and looked back to grin at him. "<strong>Glad you have your priorities st-</strong>"<br><br>Jennifer was interrupted as her motion tracker detected a ping, and she could hear the others respond as well. She snapped her view back down to the small blue screen and zeroed in on the single illuminated blip in the center of her screen. Several others called out contacts, but she needed to as well. "<strong>Contact! Formation front, 12 meters and moving forward. Size unknown.</strong>" Jennifer let her motion tracker hang, and brought up her rifle with both hands, bending her knees a little and leveling her rifle nearly with the floor, but keeping it pointed away from Bravo, she scanned the area ahead and could see nothing, nothing but that god damn smoke, fog, whatever it was. "<strong>No visual.</strong>" She called out, stepping forward a few paces to close the gap and bringing her tracker back up, the Sarge called out its movement and she agreed, but didn't need to mention it.<br><br>She concentrated on trying to see whatever was ahead and listening to the radio chatter. Rome was next to her and she glanced up, rapidly over her shoulder to look back down the way they'd just come from. <br><br><em>"These bitches wanna play games? Let's you and me waste these motherfuckers and get the hell out of&nbsp; this shithole, whataya say Widow?"</em> Rome roused up beside her, cracking a sly grin Widow nodded and punched Rome on the shoulder. "That's what I'm talking about. The Lieutenant fuckin' read my mind. Let's rip this shit up, baby. Ooh-Rah!"[/i]<br><br><br>"<strong>I don't get paid to play nice...</strong>" She tapped the side of her rifle and pointed towards the school, glancing up at the Sarge and waiting for his orders, or the Lieutenant's over the radio. She moved forward a little as Bravo began to approach the school, turning around and watching the formation rear on the Master Sergeant's orders.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>16-06-2010, 06:10:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3156332#msg3156332">Quote from: CmdrRenegade on 15-06-2010, 15:13:40</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Ooh-rah, sir.&nbsp; All right, Marines, I'll take point.&nbsp; Continue advancing towards the school." As they moved on, he continued watching the motion sensor, observing the behavior of the blip.&nbsp; Once he approached within 20 meters of the door, he ordered, "Take up firing positions on the door. Widow, watch our six." Once the squad had deployed he yelled out.<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>After hearing MSgt. O'Shay's new orders, Rome moved up closer to the door of the next room while Widow acted as the rear guard. The slience was unsettling and the floor of the adjoining room was covered in the same, mysterious haze as the hallway and Hab Block. The room was filled desks and chairs, though they were scattered and toppled throughout the room. On the opposite west wall of the room was a large white board scribbled with various elementary mathematical equations and computations. Books were strewn in a chaotic fassion from their shelves on the opposite wall and littered the floor, unseen beneath the haze. <br><br>Rome directed the business end of his M56 towards the floor, As MSgt. O'Shay shouted into the room, <strong>"This is Sgt. O'Shay of the Colonial Marines! Come out with your hands above your head and you won't be harmed.&nbsp; You've got 10 seconds to respond!"</strong><br><br>MSgt. O'Shay's voice sliced through the silence like a scalpel followed by the sudden return to silence. Maybe it was the vibrations of the Sarge's voice emanating through the quiet room jarring something from it's resting spot, or perhaps something ran across the room beneath the haze, but a computer console teetering on the edge of a school desk suddenly toppled to the floor creating a startling crashing sound. That was enough. Rome squeezed the trigger, sending a wall of lead and death tearing through the room, obliterating books, desks, chairs, computer consoles, the whiteboard and anything else in it's path. Room eased off the trigger and smirked as he glanced over to the Sarge. Rome's head swiveled as he quickly surveyed the room for the culprit of the noise. Rome stepped in the room he checked his ammo counter. 437. He was sure he would catch hell for blasting the school.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>17-06-2010, 03:36:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The burst of fire stirred something just beyond the school, a second later movement could be heard, the sound of objects being knocked over. Followed closely by several shrieks.....though the sounds that reverberated down the hall and into the room weren't those of a human...they were something else and they weren't in fear.<br><br><br>The next thing that could be sensed was the sound of claws striking mettle, at first slowly and distant then faster and faster, the distance closing at an almost unbelievable rate. Every active motion sensor began to ping wildly. A split second later a brown creature (http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20100323234515/avp/images/7/70/Runner_stalker.jpg) jumped through the doorway at the opposite end of the school and began to charge in the direction of the marines, it was followed closely by three more of it's kind, one running along each wall and the last one on the clinging as if the laws of gravity no longer applied to it. <br><br><br>Their tails swished from side to side, their jaws full of razor sharp teeth bared to the marines, what ever these things were....they weren't human and they didn't come in peace!<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>17-06-2010, 04:03:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>"ROME! WHAT THE HE-" he started before he was cut short by the inhuman shrieking.&nbsp; It was a noise out of a worst nightmare.&nbsp; The motion sensors of the whole team&nbsp; began to ping like crazy.&nbsp; "Incoming!" was all he could get out before the creature appeared.&nbsp; There was no word for this creatures appearance except nightmarish.&nbsp; To make things worse, 3 more just like it appeared.&nbsp; "Suppress!" O'Shay barked out which was the Smart Gunner's cue to do his job.&nbsp; As he was on point, he fired at the first creature to appear with is Pulse Rifle but had no time to see how much or even if he hurt it.&nbsp; "Pull back to the hallway! Fire at will! Rome, keep them suppressed.&nbsp; Everyone else, shoot what he doesn't get!" As he continued to shoot he keyed his radio.&nbsp; "Hostile contact at the schoolhouse! 4 unknowns!&nbsp; Engaging!" He glanced at his motion sensor to see if there were more blips.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>17-06-2010, 04:28:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>I looked up sharply at the sound of an M56 chattering away like a buzz saw. The noise breaking the stillness was intense. Over the comms channel I heard Sergeant O'Shay calling for fire and for Bravo to fall back. There were tonal values of surprise and a small amount of fear in his voice. My pulse rifle was on the sentry gun control desk. From the walkway door beneath the stairwell I moved fast to get back to it. At once I knew the best tactical position for Bravo to stop a fast moving assault was in the doorway to the School room. If they could get back down the corridor so that whoever they were fighting had to come at them through that narrow opening they would halt their attackers.<br><br>I reached my desk, grabbed my M41 and squatted, my back to a Hab Unit wall and the gun pulled tight to my shoulder, my aim covering the School corridor doorway. I checked the safety was still on.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo-08-1.jpg)<br><br>B Sentry was on my immediate left. The sharp end of the machine swung round to face the same door I was covering. The gun was live of course. If hostiles came up the corridor mixed in with Bravo it would get very messy.<br><br><strong>"Leftenant, I need to disarm B gun, it's sniffing for targets right where Bravo is."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Paladin</strong> on <strong>17-06-2010, 23:26:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				From his hiding place he watches the ooman warriors as they pass below him. He remains verys still hidden in the darkness, and invisible to their sight. He still didn't understand their motivations, but they seemed to be looking for ooman suvivors. He heard the chatter of their weapons fire, and the trumpet of the Kanide Amheda. From the sounds of things, they had stirred up some scouts. If they didn't kill them soon, then one scout would go back to the hive and bring more. It was always that way. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>18-06-2010, 01:58:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>Finally the silence had been broken and it came with an array of gun fire and orders from Sarge. The dread I had in my stomach vanished as my body reacted positively as if that is exactly what it needed. Like a hit a junkie needed, I wanted my brain to stop over complicating things and simply hear Kilo Squad unleash hell. I was sure Reaper had a grin on his face like death itself when it took someone, I envied that he was on point and wished to swap places with him. From my computer I saw the scans and the speed, perking an eyebrow behind my helmet. <em>What the fuck moved that fast, genetically altered colonist? </em><br><br>I cocked the shot gun and turned towards the side Senjo was backing into to cover her ass,<em> smart girl </em>. <br><strong>"Copy that Senj, I got your six."</strong><br>Scanning the hablock I made sure we didn't have a surprise coming our way, partial attention waiting at the door the squads had gone into. <br><strong>"Yui, once they are through go ahead and fire up anything that is not wearing a USMC emblem across their chest, if anyone asks...they started it." </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>18-06-2010, 02:34:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Copy that Senj, I got your six."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> I reached up, spun the small sentry command console around to face me and turned B gun's safety to <em>'ON'</em>. One press of a button would reactivate it. The automated turret whined and the barrel swung back to face the barricade across the doorway that led to the walkway down to the Metalworking Shop.<br><br>I resumed my position, my rifle pointing low to the floor but aimed in the direction of where Bravo had gone. I was aware of Private Sakuraba nearby also facing the stairwell and door.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>18-06-2010, 06:00:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>LCpl. Roman "Rome" Benke</strong><br><br>As Rome stepped inside the room and checked his ammo counter he heard MSgt. O'Shay begin the verbal assault he knew would come. <strong>"ROME! WHAT THE HE..."</strong> MSgt. O'Shay was interrupted by hellish shrieking accompanied by sounds of movement; metal on metal perhaps. Rome already had the M-56 swung in the direction of the opposite corridor and widened his stance slightly, lowering his center of gravity. He clenched his teeth in a show of feral resolve to defeat whoever or whatever rushed to meet them. <br><br><strong>"INCOMING!"</strong> came the call from MSgt. O'Shay over the radio channel. <strong>"Look alive ladies!</strong> Rome added as he retreated back into the hallway to take advantage of whatever cover and concealment it offered. His feral grin faded fleetingly as he saw the creature that spilled into the room like a rabid dog. <strong>"SUPRESS!"</strong> MSgt. O'Shay yelled out even as Rome squeezed the trigger spitting lead at the ghastly creature. Suddenly, three other creatures poured into the ransacked school room and immediately dispersed into flanking positions... <em>ALONG THE WALLS!</em> The fourth creature leaped up to the ceiling and scurried towards them as easily as if it were on the floor.<br><br>Rome's combat instincts kicked in and took over as he began yelling, screaming, taunting, and cursing their attackers like a man possessed. <strong>"YEAH!YEAH!"</strong> -M-56 burst-&nbsp; <strong>"THAT'S IT!"</strong> -M-56 burst- <strong>"COME GET SOME!"</strong> -M-56 burst-&nbsp; <strong>"WOOOOO!"</strong> -M-56 burst- <strong>"COME TO DADDY!</strong> His expression was sadistic, his movements fluid and practiced. As he sprayed the room with lead and flung taunts at the creatures, he and the rest of Bravo Team slowly retreated back down the hallway from which that had come.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>19-06-2010, 20:42:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The creatures seemed to understand the danger that the marine's weapons posed, as soon as the marines opened fire the creatures moved to evade their shots. Jumping back and forth as they continued to relentlessly close the distance, seemingly unafraid of even their own deaths. They crossed the school room without taking any fire, jumping and dodging the marines' fire streams until they reached the door into the hall that the marines were in. As they entered the hall way they were left with nowhere to dodge. <br><br>Moving as one they jumped at their targets, Rome's smartgun fire sawing one creature in half before it was even able to leap into the air, two others were destroyed in mid-flight, the kinetic force of the shells striking their bodies sending them flying back the way they had come.&nbsp; <br><br>The fourth creature used its fellows deaths to buy it the time it needed to make it's attack, as it traveled through the air it was struck several times by the marines' firepower, blowing it's right arm off, as well as a large hole in it's torso. Even wounded as it was, and obviously near death it moved to attack it's targets, it quickly slashed out at Rome with it's tail. The razor sharp tip digging deep into his armor before it pulled away collapsing as the last of its strength left it.<br><br>The creature fell to its side, shrieking in it's death throes, it's blood pooling on the floor as a faint but distinct sizzling sound could be heard....the creatures blood seemed to be eating through the floor itself! <br><br>The sounds of more claws striking the ground could be heard, from the direction that the four creatures had come....many more claws....what ever the creatures were the four the marines had just faced were obviously only the beginning.&nbsp; &nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>20-06-2010, 00:17:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer squinted slightly as Rome's M56 revved up and spewed rounds into the school, she couldn't see but had a good idea of what was going on. With her eyes locked back down the hallway, she could only cringe as the noise continued, finally stopping and being replaced by the Sarge's equally as terrifying thunderous voice.<br><br>But all of that was ceased as a loud, ear pinching shriek echoed through the hallway. Jennifer couldn't help but turn around and her motion tracker went off with three contacts inside the school. She immediately turned back around and scanned back down the hallway with her motion tracker, bringing her pulse rifle to her shoulder in the process. It was awkward, holding the heavy rifle up with one hand, but she had to manage and be prepared. A small worry crept into her mind, one of the sentries might lock a target and put additional holes into Bravo, sitting here exposed. More gunfire erupted from behind, and even through the racket Jennifer managed to hear Master Sergeant O'Shay's communications with the Lieutenant.<br><br>She moved first and switched sides in the hallway, seeing for the first time, although quick, a glance of her new enemy. The black, coarse body was a terror to behold, but in the back of her mind Jennifer knew she was more terrifying than some scratchy fucking bug. Jennifer didn't fire, Rome was pretty much between her and the bugs, but she had other worries to attend to. <br><br>Although paying attention to the current fight, Jennifer was focused on the hallway with both her rifle and motion tracker.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>20-06-2010, 02:53:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael 'Sarge' O'Shay<br>He lowered his smoking pulse rifle and ran over to Rome.&nbsp; The creature's tail had struck hard but the armor had held.&nbsp; These things, whatever they were, had something beyond animal cunning.&nbsp; Rome's would be killer had deliberately used its fellows as a shield to try to get to him.&nbsp; His eyes also widened at the creature's blood and viscera...melting the metal floor?! As these thoughts ran through his head, he heard the multiple screeches and claw scrapes from the same hallway.&nbsp; <br><br>"Fall back to the rally point! Alpha, we've got incoming hostiles numbers unknown! Don't let the sentries blast us too!"<br><br>He was used to fighting people not...things.&nbsp; This was beyond his job description, but the foe was smart enough to use a kind of "wave" tactic using its speed and numbers.&nbsp; As the squad began its run, he gave another order.<br><br>(This is assuming I see lots of blips on my motion tracker)<br>"Squad turn and suppress on my mark! 3...2...1...MARK!" He and the rest of Bravo turned and filled the hallway with shot to kill or at least slow down pursuers.&nbsp; They continued their run, doing this every 20-30 yards, until (hopefully) they reached the rally point.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>20-06-2010, 03:20:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The sound of gunfire was mixed with inhuman screeching and hissing sounds. Sounds new to me. Mixed in were chitinous clatterings that were filed into my memory as akin to... <em>claws?</em> I rapidly ran the other sound wave patterns through my database but such a search would take time. At this time, more urgent demands took priority.<br><br>Sergeant O'Shay's voice came over the comms line. <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Fall back to the rally point! Alpha, we've got incoming hostiles numbers unknown! Don't let the sentries blast us too!"</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> B Gun was poorly sited, and it's safety was on. Those two conditions were in fact helpful; it could be moved. If it was shifted towards the barricade just two or three metres, it could sanitize the full length of the walkway leading to the School. The decision took a fraction of a second to make.<br><br><strong>"Leftenant. I am moving B Gun along the Hab unit row three metres. From there it will bear down the School corridor."</strong> Not waiting for a response, I put my pulse rifle on the gun control desk and stepped the few paces to B Gun. Squatting next to it, bracing my feet securely and using my forearms under it's bulky body like the tines of a power loader I straightened my legs, lifting with my thigh and calf muscles, not my spinal muscles. Upright I walked the gun three metres along the row and squatting again planted it down, aligning it's barrel down the corridor. Forty metres down I could see Bravo falling back, muzzles flashes from their weapons filling the walkway. I could see nothing beyond them, only smoke and darkness.<br><br>Working quickly and efficiently, but not rushing, not making mistakes I checked the gun was securely planted and mounted and that it's body had a clear swing and was not fouled by the Hab unit wall behind it. I checked power leads and ammunition and interrogated the status lamps before running back to my desk and collecting my rifle. I put the gun's control console on my knee, my finger poised over the safety disengage button. Bravo needed to get out of that walkway and fast. I checked over my shoulder to A Gun. It was silent, the barrel holding steady aimed at the door to the furthest end if the Hab block. It would be better to turn it around and have both Alpha and Bravo the far side of it, then two guns would meet the attack, however there wasn't time. One gun would have to do.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Paladin</strong> on <strong>20-06-2010, 17:31:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He watched the ooman warriors fight off the Kanide Amehda. So far he did not need to reveal his position. His attention focused on the female moving one of the automated guns the oomans used. He glanced over at the other one down the hall, and then back up to where he had come into the area. It was out of the guns line of fire wich was good. Even though they were promitive projectile weapons, they could still kill. The oomans were managing to hold their ground well. Maybe they would survive this.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>22-06-2010, 05:12:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>Rome rushed backwards down the corridor to their previous position in the Hab Block while simultaneously peering through his eyepiece screen that was mounted on the headset worn underneath his helmet. The eyepiece screen displayed the infrared target tracking system layout which Rome was struggling with at the moment. Normally, the infrared target tracking system was extremely quick and accurate in target acquisition, but these creatures were faster and more agile than anything they'd ever encountered, making it difficult even for the tracking system to lock on. Rome squeezed the trigger despite the lack of adequate target lock, uncharacteristically sending a deluge of hot lead peppering the wall behind their intended targets before his deadly volley finally found it's mark, ripping one of the foul creatures in half as they entered the narrow kill zone of the corridor. <br><br>As they bunched up closer together to enter the corridor, they had much less room to maneuver and the M-56's infrared tracking system was more easily able to extrapolate and translate the target information. The targeting reticle was already locking onto it's next target when Rome squeezed the trigger again, smashing into the other creatures along with the hail of lead whizzing past his head from the Marines behind him who had turned and fired, giving Rome an opportunity to cease fire long enough to catch up with the rest of Bravo.<br><br>As Rome wheeled around, the remaining creature leaped at him, losing a limb and a large portion of its torso in flight. Still the creature's tenacity and persistence brought him close enough to Rome that the creature nearly impaled him with it's deadly barbed tail before the Marines finally finished him off. <strong>"Jesus Fucking Christ, Sarge! The fucker stabbed me! I think he missed though. What the fu..."</strong> Rome was interrupted by the same sound these four creatures had made earlier... only this new sound was definitely being made by more than four of them. Rome didn't waste another second getting the hell out of that corridor, sprinting back towards the rally point and behind the defensive powerhouses that were the UA-571C Sentry Guns. <br><br>Rome's adrenaline was definitely pumping now and it showed as he yelled and cursed puffed out his chest, pounding it with a fist like a territorial gorilla. He taunted even more, pacing wildly perpendicular to the entrance of the school corridor. <strong>"WOOOO YEAH! BRING IT BITCHES! Ya'll want some more of this shit!? I'm gonna waste ALL you mother fuckers! Bring your momma's and your daddy's, your brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, girlfriends, teachers, friends, neighbors, bosses, fuckbuddys and your goddamned dogs! I'm gonna kill ALL ya'll cause *I AM* the baddest mother fucker on this rock. I am the Minister of Death!"</strong> Rome always one to go over the top in times like these and he always seemed to forget, during his taunts, that he was accompanied by one of the most dangerous and professional squad of Marines in the entire Corps.<br><br>Hearing the creatures draw closer, Rome lined up behind the sentry gun, lowered into his sustained fire stance and waited to pick off the ones that might slip past the sentry fire. <strong>"Time to earn your money, Marines! Let's exterminate these fucking bugs!"</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>22-06-2010, 20:09:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The sound of claws striking mettle grew and grew, as more and more sets of feet seemed to join the charge down the unseen end of the hallway from the other side of the school, suddenly a single monstrous shriek peeled off. Bouncing and reverberating through the halls and into the hab block. It was the sound of a creature that knew nothing other than death, of a being who's soul purpose was to survive, to adapt, and to overcome. It spoke of primal rage, cold unfeeling violence, and a never ending hunger.....and it did not speak alone! Before the shriek had even reached its highest pitch it as joined by an uncountable number of fellow shrieks, each one joining with those around it to form one singular sound. It was the sound that nightmares are made of, the sound that could drive the week willed to madness.&nbsp; And all the while the sound of claws grew closer and closer, motion sensors pinged wildly........<br><br><br>And then the first runner became visible storming through the hall like a demonic greyhound. It was followed closely by several their courses intertwining with one another so as to mask their true numbers. they ran along the walls, ceiling and floor, charging as one showing no fear of the firepower that would obviously be leveled against them. Seconds behind them followed 6 black creatures, (http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20080619232604/avp/images/a/ae/Alien.jpg) they were larger then the runners and moved with a grace that belied their bulk. They moved on all fours along the ceiling and walls using the runners as an inhuman shield. Their jaws snapping in anticipation of the destruction they were to unleash.<br><br><br>As the horde of creatures closed with the marines' they entered B gun's fire range, with a soft whine the gun cycled up and opened fire with the roar of rapidly fired rounds. B gun's 'SmartShot' computer fired with perfect accuracy it's first target, the lead runner, never even had a chance to realize that it was being fired at before the high velocity rounds impacted on it's body, punching through it and blowing it apart. The remains of the runner fell to the ground it's blood already beginning to eat through the floor. The other xenomorphs moved past it, it's blood landing on them with no visible effect. B gun continued to fire, already selecting another target. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>22-06-2010, 20:52:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>I heard the platoon sergeant giving commands - commands tainted with adrenaline - and corporal Beneke shouting... the way he shouts... within seconds Bravo Team ran back through the hatchway. I had counted them all out - Sergeant O'Shay, Beneke, Morden, Mitchell, Law. One, two, three, four, five...<br><br>I counted them all back.<br><br><strong>"Break left! Break left!"</strong> I called. The platoon was best deployed in the centre of the Hab Block towards the platoon CP and A Gun. As soon as the last friendly was clear I pushed the button on the gun command console. The word 'ARMED' flashed orange. I did not stay in position as a whine of machinery filled the room, but broke to my right towards A Gun fifteen metres away. It was armed, and therefore extremely dangerous to manhandle but now the requirements of the field manual needed to be overridden.<br><br>Behind me men and women shouted, guns fired and the demonic chatter of the sentry gun blasted the room's airspace. I ignored all these inputs; they were irrelevant. I leaped over the desk I had used as a command point for the sentries and ran to A Gun. As I reached it I was surprised. It was pointing <em>up</em>, as high as the Hab block's upper walkway and it's elevation was higher than that. Not concerned now if there was a malfunction I squatted beside the gun and using the same technique as previously lifted it, turned it through a hundred and eighty degrees and set it down. My eye ran quickly over the tripod, base mount and power lamps.<br><br><strong>"A Gun live. Sanitising the area below the stairwell. Bravo, fall back!"</strong><br><br>I crouched, brought my pulse rifle to my shoulder and watching the unfolding chaos before me, flipped off the safety. I aimed and began to loose controlled short bursts at anything that was moving and wasn't a Marine.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>23-06-2010, 02:07:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>I had no idea what the fuck those black things running towards us were, but like hell I was about to let that shake me. Whatever the fuck they were I heard the attack on Rome and the bits and pieces from their retreat back to us and I knew that those things had to die immediately. <br><strong>"Rock and Roll, Kilo squad!"</strong><br>I doubted anyone had their safeties on the weapons, but I did not advance. The Sentry guns were our first line of defense and like hell I was going to get into the cross hairs. I only regretted having a shot gun in this situation, I had to wait till something got balls to nutsack close to me in order to maximize carnage. <br><strong>"Once they are all dead we will catalog the motherfuckers!OORAH!" </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>24-06-2010, 01:31:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael O'Shay<br><br>He broke left as Senjo had said.&nbsp; The lady with the big guns probably knew she was talking about.&nbsp; Rome had run in the doorway with the A gun.&nbsp; It wasn't what he had wanted, but there was no time to change that.&nbsp; <br><br>He had a brief flashback.&nbsp; He remembered as a kid having poured water down an ant hill and laughing as all the ants came scurrying out.&nbsp; His childish and selfish glee turning to pain when the ants swarmed his legs and bit him multiple times.&nbsp; It was one of the worst things he could think of right now but it was too much like the current predicament.&nbsp; "Time to wash out some ants," he muttered to himself.<br><br>The sentry guns were a tremendous asset right now, but they weren't going to stop all of them.&nbsp; He had to think quick.&nbsp; The larger, black creatures appeared to be 'leaders' of some sort and were herding the smaller, brown ones as soldiers and moving cover.&nbsp; <br><br>"Firing line behind B gun! Zippo, hose anything that gets beyond the sentry! Gizmo and Widow, get the stragglers! Rome, suppress like hell! Reaper, shoot the black ones if you can! Get ready!"<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>24-06-2010, 02:42:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Corporal John Morden<br><br>A fervent heartbeat.&nbsp; Metallic screeches from alien mouths roaring over a symphony of rapid clacking, claws on grating.&nbsp; The dull whine of a sentry gun.&nbsp; A sharp crack as chitinous armor caved in, and the subsequent splatter and hiss of inhuman blood.&nbsp; Constant gunfire.&nbsp; Bullets veering past intended targets, piercing through the fog and impacting harmlessly out of sight.&nbsp; The stagnant smell of filtered air circulating through the helmet.&nbsp; The heft of the rifle, and the weight of armor that now seemed more of a hindrance than a protective layer.&nbsp; The clammy feeling of flesh, the warmth sucked away by a combination of rushing adrenaline and combat stimulants.&nbsp; The slight, almost imperceptible blur that trailed after his vision, as if his brain was scrutinizing the hallway faster than his eyes could keep up.<br><br>Reaper crouched, every muscle in his legs tensed up and ready to send him backwards at a moment's notice.&nbsp; A human spring coiled and ready to bound out of harms way.&nbsp; He felt calm, as he always did.&nbsp; That isn't to say that the appearance of the bizarre creatures had not surprised him.&nbsp; Corporal Morden was about as detached from his own humanity as it was possible for a man to get, but he was still flesh and blood, and there were still primal emotions that could be stirred within his breast.&nbsp; He hadn't fired a single shot before, allowing Rome to put all that excessive firepower to good use.&nbsp; A callous gesture, and a conservative one.&nbsp; These beasts were a new threat, perhaps a literally <em>alien</em> threat, and he wasn't about to waste ammunition until he was absolutely certain that he could get a clean shot.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>Reaper, shoot the black ones if you can!</strong><br><br>It almost sounded like a challenge.&nbsp; Perhaps it was.&nbsp; Time to earn that scary reputation.<br><br>Now that the initial scouts were dead and eating holes in the floor, Reaper felt a sort of lucid composure that he was all too familiar with.&nbsp; The enemies were not human.&nbsp; They were faster, stronger, and spilled caustic blood when felled.&nbsp; But they <em>could</em> be felled, and that was the only thing that registered in his mind.&nbsp; So it was without even the slightest hesitation now that he leveled his weapon, trained it on the closest black-shelled runner, performed the necessary internal calculations, and opened up with a controlled burst of fire exactly where he predicted the thing's head would be by the time the bullets reached the wall it was crawling on.<br><br>He was no Senjo of course.&nbsp; Reaper didn't have the benefit of a supercomputer guiding his thoughts or ensuring that all of his movements and shots were perfectly executed.&nbsp; He wasn't even a genius like Gizmo, who could improvise on the fly and do seemingly impossible things with a box of scrap parts.&nbsp; But if there was one thing the Corporal was good at, perhaps the <em>only</em> thing he was truly qualified for, it was shooting on the mark.&nbsp; If he couldn't even do that much, may whatever devils were residing in this hellhole take him now.<br><br>The ones crawling at ground level were best left to Rome, who even now was belting out irritating catchphrases as fast as bullets, as though his boisterous words would blast the encroaching hordes apart better than his guns.&nbsp; Still, he did not begrudge the man for his habits.&nbsp; He certainly did wonders for Kilo's morale, at any rate.<br><br>Another narrow volley of anti-armour rounds, this time at one of the trickier ones loping across the ceiling with complete disregard for the laws of gravity.&nbsp; Then another, quick as a bolt, between the shoulders of two brown scouts at one of the blacks that seemed intent on using its smaller companions as living shields.&nbsp; Some shots were sure to miss, and each one that sparked off the walls or the floor or the ceiling sent a dull throb through his abdomen, a jolt of instinctual shame.&nbsp; But he was not called a <em>marksman</em> for nothing, and surely even these agile demons would soon learn why that was.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>24-06-2010, 03:14:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Everyone was performing their assigned tasks.&nbsp; He began to blaze away at anything that came within reach.&nbsp; <br>"EAT IT! GET SOME! EAT SHIT AND DIE!" <br><br>He had really been around Rome too much, but it was refreshing to get his pent-up fear out.&nbsp; No one, not even him, could ever destroy fear.&nbsp; A good Marine fights fear, conquers it, and then uses it against his foe every time he goes to battle.&nbsp; That was what Parris had taught him.&nbsp; <br><br>These things were out of a worst nightmare, but unlike nightmares, they could be killed.&nbsp; They clearly acted with some semblance of tactics, so at the core they were simply smarter animals.&nbsp; <br><br>He had calculated quickly that the small and brown aliens, though dangerous, were ultimately a screen.&nbsp; The large, black ones who lead them on were the biggest threat.&nbsp; They were larger and probably stronger, faster, and smarter than the creatures they led.&nbsp; Between the massed fire of the rest of his squad, he felt the brown ones would be more easily dispatched.&nbsp; He focused his pulse rifle and magnum fire on the large, black aliens as they came into view.&nbsp; <br><br>"GET SOME! HAHA, YA LIKE THAT?!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ReijiTabibito</strong> on <strong>24-06-2010, 03:23:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yui wasn't worried about anything coming up from the front.&nbsp; B Squad had been sent that way, and she knew that between four pulse rifles, plus Rome's Smartgun - which might have well doubled the amount of firepower for that part of the unit - and then throw in the Synth's twin automated sentry guns...whatever came that way would have to be hell itself to survive an onslaught like that.&nbsp; Or be an onslaught itself.&nbsp; She had no idea, all she knew was that targets were coming in their direction.<br><br>And sure, that was a lot of firepower, but couldn't there be things that survived that?&nbsp; Even Marines admitted (from time to time, and only in private), that they could have an equal.&nbsp; That's why Yui kept her flamethrower trained on the entrance near the front of B Gun.&nbsp; And Rome might have thought he was Mr. Bad-Ass, the God of War, Watch Out Here I Come Creeps...but if Rome was all those, then she was Ms. Flame-Breath, the Goddess of Fire, Here Comes the Raging Inferno.&nbsp; That's when she remembered something.<br><br>"Senj, here!"&nbsp; Lucky for her Forty was on a sling, and she could hose with it one-handed.&nbsp; Because if she couldn't, then there wasn't any way she could do what she was doing right now - offering Senjo the Pulse Rifle she kept as backup, also on a sling.&nbsp; She'd heard rumors that Synthetics were freakishly strong...and if anyone besides Rome in this outfit could handle twin Pulse Rifles in her mind, it was Senjo.<br><br>Gripping Forty tightly, she aimed it at the doorway, ready to pull the trigger and wash anything that walked through it in a napthalene-fueled blaze of death.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Paladin</strong> on <strong>24-06-2010, 03:58:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				THe kanide Amheda apear in his vision attacking the ooman warriors and his systems target them, the dual casters on his shoulders rotating to take as many targets as possible. They only wait for him to trigger them. With a flick of a tusk he sets them to standby and backs up a step or two out of the line of fire of the robot gun that the one strange warrior was picking up so that it wouldnot be able to shoot him. HE glances behind him before turning around to watch the fight.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>24-06-2010, 18:59:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>As the <em>targets</em> advanced I aimed, squeezed off a burst, aimed again, squeezed, aimed... I mentally recorded them just as targets, to be concerned about what these animals actually were, right then, was a distraction.<br><br>The large echoing space of the Hab block was filled with intense raucous sound. The screeching of the targets was loud enough. Added to that the maniacal buzz-saw blasting of the sentries made the place hard to bear. I kept my mouth open to equalize the air pressure. I would not feel pain if my ear drums punctured but it would hamper my efficiency to operate in the platoon. I therefore aimed, fired and aimed again with my mouth open.<br><br>Even over the wall of pulsing sounds I could hear shouts. I detected both Platoon Sergeant O'Shay's and Lance Corporal Beneke's voices, raised in that ranting repetitive masculine way some human males do. It was a primitive thing, as much to suppress fear as to instil it.<br><br>I made no sound. Calling out required thought and at this tactical juncture all of my combat processors were fully engaged.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Senj, here!"</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> With a small delay that in a human physiology could be construed as irritation I glanced at Private Sakuraba. She was holding out her M41. I understood the gesture and had we been fighting human opponents I would have accepted the extra rifle and used it. I was fully capable but at a 37.6% degraded targeting ratio. My mind had accepted that in this circumstance, spraying the room with bullets was less efficient than firing fewer shots that were well aimed.<br><br>I nodded and gestured, 'there', indicating a broken chair between us. I returned to the primary task of stopping these... targets.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>24-06-2010, 21:51:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				They moved without fear, without pain, without anything other than the unfeeling need to destroy their enemies. As they charged through the doorway and into the hab block the creatures were met with a wall of lead. Rounds whizzed past them as they moved to close the distance with Kilo platoon. Running as a group they charged at the main group of marines, ignoring Rome and B gun, seemingly un-phased by the deadly crossfire, they had entered what would have been Kilo platoon's kill box against any normal foe. But they were no normal foe, and they charged head long through the fire leveled against them. <br><br>The first to fall was one of the three remaining runners, which was practically sawed in half by the combined fire of Rome and the smart gun beside him, The remaining two runners charged full speed at the marines intent on wrecking havoc on their firing line. Their superior speed was made fully evident as they left the black creatures behind closing the short distance between themselves and the marines in the blink of an eye. Both runners leaped as one at the marines flying directly into their fields of fire, the first found it's head was blown off by the fire from one of the marine's pulse rifles, sending the body flying backwards onto its back. The final runner was blown backwards by two blasts from a shotgun in rapid succession. First catching on the right shoulder sending it spinning in midair and the second hitting it in the side sending it falling in the opposite direction. <br><br><br>The black creatures proved much more capable of wading through the sea of fire pouring from the marines weapons. Nowhere near as agile as the runners each creature took several hits from the weapons leveled against them. Moving in a tight formation they ran on all fours, the one on the far right found itself the target of A gun as well as a pulse rifle it's upper body blown to peaces as the rounds impacted with it. The center creature, at the front of the charge, met it's death at the hands of Zippo's flame thrower, it's body's weakness to fire made painfully evident as it shrieked in inhuman pain before falling to the floor. Reaper's shots proved effective as one of the head of second to the left creature disappeared in a spray of acidic blood. And then the creatures were on them....the marines' shield of distance was gone, the creature's attacks were heralded by loud hisses and snapping jaws..<br><br><br>There were three left alive, the first creature dove at Sarge catching him on the chest it's weight was immense enough to knock the man on his back, the creatures claws digging in to his chest just below his collar bones as it found the gap between his chest plate and shoulder pads. It's mouth opening wide to reveal razor sharp jaws....and what appeared to be a second smaller mouth inside set inside of the first. <br><br><br>The second one closed with Reaper standing upright as soon as he was within reach and whipping it's tail over it's shoulder. The tip of it's tail was razor sharp and driven with a force that no human could hope to match. The tip drove hard into Reaper's shoulder pad, punching through the armor and driving into his flesh on the front of his shoulder, deep enough to come close to scraping the bone. <br><br><br>The final creature chose Zippo as it's target, in one quick fluid motion it stood on it's legs swiping her flame thrower down and to the side with one arm, as if it recognized that the weapon was the source of the fire and not her. It's other arm a blur of movement as it clawed at her belly striking at her head the force of the blow strong enough to dent the helmet slightly, and send her stumbling. <br>&nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 01:01:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>What impressed me wasn't their intensity of purpose, nor was it their immense bulk - these things were as big as an American brown bear - or bigger. It wasn't their speed either. What impressed me was the combination of all three. What the metabolism and musculature of these creatures must be like to deliver that mass that fast?<br><br>An unbidden thought came to me even as they were scythed down in Kilo's killing zone: <em>If they were on our side. If we had willing animals like this to fight our battles...</em> Then the time for thought was past and reflex took over. Despite the crossfire of two sentries, an M56 and numerous rifles and shotguns and a flamer, three of the bigger ones hit our firing line. To my right one struck Sergeant O'Shay and another seemed to leap right past me towards Corporal Morden but it was the one on my left that rushed at Private Sakuraba that caught my attention.<br><br><em>It used it's arm. To knock the flamer aside. It didn't just leap, it pushed her flamer aside with it's arm.</em><br><br>The small Japanese woman went down under the massive bulk of the thing. She had no chance. Her only defence now was her ape suit, the tough anti-flame and anti-acidic attack armour membrane that was keeping that things claws and jaws out.<br><br><em>Acid-resistant. She's safe. I can shoot it.</em><br><br>So I did.<br><br>The thought came clear in my head. Having seen how their blood splashed across the broken furniture and Hab unit walls and melted them, filling the room with dense acrid fumes I was hesitating a second about shooting it as it grappled the Japanese marine. But her suit should protect her. I stood up from my kneeling position, swung to face where the thing was grappling Sakuraba, brought my rifle back to my shoulder, bedded it firmly in, took aim and squeezed the trigger. This time it was not short bursts. I held the trigger in and the ten millimetre explosive tipped shells spat out, the digital counter descending rapidly, the gun pounding my chassis shoulder joint. I aimed at the things' skull and shoulders and upper spinal column, anywhere vital I could strike while keeping to the side and avoiding hitting the soldier beneath it, pouring in fire from only two metres away.<br><br>If I was Lance Corporal Beneke I would probably be shouting, so it surprised me a great deal to hear my own voice.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo-08-1.jpg)<br><br><strong>"Get the fuck off her!"</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 02:07:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A fraction of a second, just a fraction of a second.&nbsp; He could feel the sharp and burning pain in his upper chest from the creature's claw.&nbsp; It felt like an eternity as he saw that terrifying mouth in front of him, opening wide as saliva dripped.&nbsp; In slow motion, a second set of jaws appeared.&nbsp; For a fraction of a second, he thought he was staring death in the face.&nbsp; Then he remembered he was a Marine and he didn't have permission to die.&nbsp; <br><br>He formulated his plan quickly.&nbsp; He didn't have much time.&nbsp; His armor, in spite of the wound, was doing its job.&nbsp; The creature couldn't simply eviscerate him as long as he wore it, but that advantage wouldn't last.&nbsp; <br>Aliens vs. Predator video game - Marine reveal trailer (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GljJpco0VZI#ws)<br>(Fast forward the clip to 1:06 to get an idea what he's doing)<br>He grabbed underneath its 'chin' while quickly kicking his leg up underneath it.&nbsp; (the following is if he succeeds getting the alien off him)With all his might, he shoved the creature off of him, hoping it wouldn't be quick enough to recover quickly.&nbsp; As he did so, he grabbed his magnum pistol from its holster.&nbsp; At this range, it was almost impossible to miss.&nbsp; As he scooted backwards, hoping not to get an acid blood shower, he fired round after round into it, hoping to put it down and keep it down.&nbsp; At this he rejoined the fight.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Paladin</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 02:36:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Silently cloaked he watched the omman's battle. The strange oooman yet not ooman had excellent accuracy. Perhaps it was one of the omman's servant robots he had heard about. Hearing a tick behind him he spins jamming his wristblades upward and into the head of a kanid amheda that had managed to sneak up behind him. The blades went up into its brain killing it instantly. Silently he pushed it off his blade and stepped over the body heading away from the fight. Behind him what little blood leaked out of the stab wounds ate trough the walkway grating and into the floor below hissing as it hit. He pulls himself up into the maintenance duct and was soon hidden again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 03:48:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>In this type of situation I was happy the shotgun was my weapon of choice, immediately I saw Senjo turn to help Yui. The blur of black had me reacting as quickly as my human mind could process. Without thinking I reached out grabbed the tail of the creature and sought to prevent it from digging deeper into Modren's shoulder. With shotgun in the other hand I shoved it point blank into what I thought was the face and unloaded every fucking round into it. <em>This fucking thing wasn't gonna take one of my soldiers on my god damn watch! </em><br><strong>"On your feet apes!" </strong><br>I roared in a new fury, reloading my slug launcher and moved to blast the hell the hissing son of a bitch asking Sarge for a date! I felt the adrenaline surge into my system as if I was just injected with it, my mind trying to clear long enough to get a count on all of Kilo. <br><strong>"Anyone dead yet?!Speak up!"</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 04:33:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Corporal John Morden</strong><br><br>"Tricky bastard-"<br><br>Reaper hadn't uttered so much as a single word for nearly an hour now, but the moment that devilish tail plunged between armor plating and struck flesh they hissed out of him like blood from a wound.&nbsp; Just his luck that it had punctured directly into an old scar, the very same place that Widow had extracted a nasty bullet a few years before.&nbsp; The bladed tail sent familiar pangs through him.&nbsp; It was every bit as sharp as a knife, if not sharper, and he'd been on the receiving end of those far too many times to let it phase him.&nbsp; <br><br>Though at that point it didn't matter if it broke his calm demeanor.&nbsp; Staring up into that eyeless face was like staring into an empty pit, its sleek carapace glistening with unnatural luster and multiple rows of teeth gleaming like metal spikes in a too-wide mouth.&nbsp; It was like something out of the works of Doré or Bosch, given form and malignant intent.&nbsp; Its hide was a wretched ting of jutting spines, pulsating tubes, and oily curves marred by decorative ridges.&nbsp; And all Reaper could find himself doing is waxing poetic on just how uniquely hideous the thing about to kill him was up close.&nbsp; His rifle was too unwieldy to bring up to bear, and with it looming over him he very much doubted that his hand was quite quick enough to grab the combat knife on his vest and make a fatal strike without taking an acid bath.<br><br>Thankfully he didn't have to suffer such an ignoble death, as the Leftenant barreled over and blew the thing's braincase apart with brutal efficiency.&nbsp; That's what being part of a team like Kilo meant: someone always had your back.&nbsp; It was something Reaper was still getting used to, even after a decade in the military.<br><br><strong>"Anyone dead yet?!&nbsp; Speak up!"</strong><br><br>"I ought to talk more!" he shouted gruffly, wrenching the tail from his shoulder and flinging himself backwards before taking aim at the nearest xeno, concentrating, and firing a salvo of shots towards its chest cavity.&nbsp; "Don't want to be mistaken for a corpse!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 04:37:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The crack of chitin could be heard as the blasts from Senjo's rifle impacted all along it's side. It let out a loud, somewhat surprised shriek it's blood spilling onto Zippo's body as it collapsed on top of her. <br><br><br>The creature on attempting to embed it's tail into Reaper's shoulder did not even have time to react as the slugs from the shotgun literally blew it's head away, the blunt force from the weapon at such close range sending the body sideways to spill it's blood onto the floor.<br><br><br>The final creature was thrown back as Sarge kicked it away, moving backwards through the air catching several shotgun blasts in its side and dying in mid air landing on the ground where it spasmed once with a soft hiss, and then ceased to move. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 05:59:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I'm still kickin', Lieutenant." He stood up with a grunt.&nbsp; The creature had definitely hurt him but now that the adrenaline was starting to fade, the pain was becoming that much worse.&nbsp; He looked around to see who was still up.&nbsp; He still had responsibility to see to his people.&nbsp; He looked around and didn't see Zippo or Rome.&nbsp; He looked around and saw a suited arm beneath one of the black alien corpses.&nbsp; "Shit! Quit standing around and get her out from under there!" He grabbed her arm and yanked Zippo out as quickly as he could.&nbsp; Though, she had a lot of the creature's blood on her, it didn't appear to be eating through.&nbsp; The sudden exertion was making the wound bite more.&nbsp; "Damn it...Corpsman!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 11:58:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer had retreated to the middle of the hab block, turning her rifle on the doors as the rest of the team piled in, she was careful to use short, controlled and precise bursts of fire. The bugs, whatever they were, flooded into the room with on fear and no hesitation. Jennifer was visibly and literally surprised as hell at their move, and the fluidity of their attack suggested a high intelligence or a level of connectivity that required no communication, because aside from the clattering and hissing, shrieking and splattering as they were ripped apart by Rome and the sentries, they made no noise suggestive of a planned attack.<br><br>Jennifer saw the Sarge go down and started to rush towards him, but one of the bugs barreled right past her, knocking her backwards as it went around Senjo and targetted Zippo of everyone, swiping her weapon from her hands as it attacked her, before Senjo put it down. Jennifer was again, surprised as hell, at this trick. Knowing the weapon was the true threat was a remarkable thing, nothing like what Jennifer had ever seen before, with other aggressive life forms it was a simple matter of using natural abilities to attack. But these things had more than one. Claws, tails and large jaws. Totally new, and dangerous. As Rome had said it best, and Jennifer was the quiet one in combat, aside from Reaper, his words suited her intentions perfectly. Fuck em all.<br><br>She scanned for more targets, picking up her motion tracker and detecting some movement a little ways away, but no more directly inside the room. The call for a medic made her spine chill, and her head snapped over to where the Sarge was with Zippo. With the blood on her, Jennifer knew Zippo would be fine, for now, in her ape suit. But the Sarge was obviously bleeding, and she quickly rushed over to him, sliding her pulse rifle on its sling, so it was on her lower back instead of bothering her in front.<br><br>Jennifer crouched down next to the Sarge and pushed him down so he was sitting. "<strong>Take it easy Master Sergeant.</strong>" She calmly pulled out a small, hand sized cylindrical object with a pointed edge on one end and a small panel on the other. She put the pointed side near the wound and pressed a button. It beeped loudly, and the Sarge would have felt an extreme cooling sensation, like having ice put on the wound but with no pain, and then a quick feeling of numbness. It was a foam dispensing syringe with a small canister for its supply. The foam acted as a natural barrier against infections and also killed most bacteria not common to the human body. She stuffed the device back in her bag and pulled out a small package, a vial and large bandage. The package contained a slightly acidic compound that helped the wound heal. The vial was a small shot of adrenaline to keep the Sarge awake, and the bandage was self explanitory. She ripped open the small package with her teeth and dumped it over the wound, a small cloth in her hand allowed her to clean the edges so she could see it. She had a small laser device that could help mend skin, but she had no time to do that, it would take hours to clean and heal over the smallest of the wounds. The colony medical center would have a much better device, that would cut that time in half, but this would have to do. She pressed the bandage onto the Sarge's wound and put his hand over it as she tied it on his back. "<strong>Your good.</strong>" She nodded, standing the Sarge up and checking for other wounded.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 13:08:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>As the shining, insectile, bear-sized creature went down I tracked it's descent with my rifle. I ceased fire. It had collapsed on top of the smaller marine and I was preparing to haul it off or push it off with a suitable tool - I needed a piece of broken furniture before I touched that blood - when Sergeant O'Shay appeared and dragged Sakuraba out from underneath the thing. I was impressed. Judging from it's bulk and heavy exoskeleton I estimated I would have trouble lifting it, the consideration that it was bleeding highly corrosive acids aside. Lance Corporal Mitchell came across to tend to the wounded sergeant and flame-thrower operator. I checked my ammo counter.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_30.jpg)<br><br>That had been close. Releasing the almost spent clip I put it carefully in a bandolier pouch to my left side, the 'used' side, and selected a fresh one, slapping it home, clicking the lock and checking the readout. The red digits '99' illuminated. I slid the weapon's safety on and shouldered it behind me on it's sling. For now the attacks seem to have expired their energy but in my judgement I considered we would see more of them.<br><br><em>Ants. Like a hive of ants. A hive mind?</em><br><br>I picked up Sakuraba's pulse rifle and handed it back to her.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Anyone dead yet?! Speak up!"</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> <strong>"Here,"</strong> I responded tonelessly while moving carefully about the room. The place was filled with acrid sour smoke, bitter on my taste receptors and in my olfactory tubes. I narrowed my breathing ducts to draw in less of the pungent material and observed the chamber through the smoke of melting steel and plastics and ammunition discharge. The low level haze was slowly returning like marsh mist back down to the floor. Wide splashes of insect fluids sizzled against Hab block walls and the deck of the upper tier walkway.<br><br>I punched the safety on A Gun to 'on' and went to the consoles. B Gun had fired 243 rounds, A Gun 181. Still three of them had reached us across twenty or more metres of open killing ground. I was unable to suppress a recognition of how superbly developed these creatures were. We had faced approximately a dozen. What would the attack of a hundred be like? A thousand?<br><br>Around the room marines collected equipment, checked gear and did as I was doing; stared at the devastation.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_31.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_32.jpg)<br><br>Near B Gun, Lance Corporal Beneke was standing, his gun levelled, the barrel still smoking. I nodded expressionlessly at him. A generic 'okay?' gesture. He still carried that solid tribal stance, as though just one evolutionary stage separated him from a chest beating Neanderthal. His eyes were wide. I did not recollect previously encountering Beneke with quite that expression on his features.<br><br><strong>"You can stand down, Marine,"</strong> I said, <strong>"You won."</strong><br><br>I squatted beside one of the black shattered carcasses, one of those B Gun or Beneke had riddled upon entry. It was mostly whole yet the fluids oozing from it were eating quickly away into the steel floor panels and the service conduits in the sub-floor. As I observed it settled downwards akin to a ship slowly sinking.<br><br>I needed to examine these things. This was an important discovery. The colony had a science lab and a medical bay. I needed to hose a carcass down of blood and get it on an operating table.<br><br>I glanced up towards the Leftenant. Right now he had his mind on military concerns but soon I would talk with him. On the bulkhead beside the dead alien was a corporate logo:<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_29.jpg)<br><br><em>They would build better ones away from nests of eight foot tall soldier ants.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>25-06-2010, 13:53:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He had let Widow do her work.&nbsp; She was quick and effective in staunching the wound.&nbsp; "I'm okay now, Widow," he looked around and looked at Reaper.&nbsp; He could see that he had a nasty looking shoulder wound.&nbsp; "Go check Reaper.&nbsp; Rome! If you're not dead, get your ass over here! Everyone reload and check your weapons!" "Sir, with all due respect, does FATHER have any idea what the FUCK these things are?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>26-06-2010, 00:35:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>Fear. Fear can be a dangerous and destructive force. In the life of a marine, fear is the difference between success and failure, sanity and insanity, life and death. Fear is a topic which is paramount in the training of Colonial Marines. The lessons: Understanding that every marine, no matter how much of a bad-ass they are, experiences fear. Recognizing fear. Controlling fear rather than letting fear control you. And finally, turning fear into a weapon <em>for</em> you instead of a weapon <em>against</em> you. In the service of a trained, battle-hardened marine... fear can be the most dangerous weapon in a marine's arsenal.<br><br>The lessons and training in controlling fear came flooding back into Rome's mind in a fleeting moment. Feeling the effects of fear beginning to coil inside his mind like a deadly viper, Rome's hypothalamus was stimulated causing a chemical "SOS" to be broadcast to his adrenal glands, in turn activating his sympathetic nervous system and sending him into the excited state in which he now found himself. As his adrenal glands released the hormones epinephrine and norepinephrine, his eyes widened and his pupils dilated. He made a conscious effort to slow his breathing and focus his mind on the task at hand, recalling into play the lessons learned governing fear but already Rome's heart rate was elevated, his respiration increased, and his muscles were able to contract at a much higher rate than normal. All of these are important factors in helping one deal with fear and the danger that faces them. But all of these effects paled in comparison to the effect fear could have on the mind, the ability to take in and process more information than would otherwise be humanly possible... and react to it.<br><br>Rome watched in fascination as the world around him suddenly seemed to slow down, everything happening at an impossibly slow rate. He felt detached as he watched himself standing near the "B" sentry gun, his eyes wide, his mouth open wide in a primal scream of defiance at their attackers. Fire and lead spat from his M-56 and the sentry guns like fire-breathing dragons belching flame at its prey. Despite the sense of detachment he still felt a relative control of everything, watching himself turn this way and that even as the thought presented itself in his mind. Rome watch in twisted amusement as his actions chewed to bits several of the strange creatures as they turned on their approach of Kilo's firing line. With his slowed perception of reality and adrenaline enhanced senses, Rome’s mind quickly calculated the path of the creatures, the trajectory of his weapon’s lethal volley and Kilo’s location and released the trigger a mere instant before deadly predators were upon his squad mates. Even with the IFF transponders, friendly fire was still a reality of combat, but these creatures presented the additional threat of being able to cover his team in an acidic shower of alien blood which would be tantamount to putting a round in the ear of his fellow marines.<br><br>Rome stood there watching the final moments of the battle for what seemed to him like hours. His eyes remained wide as everything still moved in slow motion. Hearing the shouts and yells of the other marines, Rome said nothing and stood motionless, letting the adrenalin's effects quickly fade. He glanced to Senjo as she addressed him, <strong>"You can stand down marine, we won."</strong> Rome was well aware of the outcome of the fray, of course, but he was unable to find his voice for a brief moment, giving Senjo a quick nod of acknowledgment instead. He slowly gathered his composure and shifted his weight, collecting his legs squarely underneath him again. His chest still heaved in and out, his body's effort to pump oxygen-rich blood to his brain, muscles and other critical regions. It wasn't until he heard MSgt. O'Shay call his name that he blinked rapidly, seemingly snapping out of his adrenalin high. <strong>"Rome! If you're not dead, get your ass over here!"</strong><br><br>Again, military training kicked in and instead of one of his usual sarcastic or macho retorts he simply complied, much louder than was necessary <strong>"YES! MASTER SERGEANT!"</strong> . Thumbing the safety on, he slung the business end of the M-56 skyward and locked it into the safe position, freeing both hands for other uses. He ran over to where the rest of Kilo was gathered extending a leather gloved hand down to Reaper. <strong>"Nap time's over Reaper"</strong> he half grinned to the man as his body finally calmed and he returned to "normal."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>26-06-2010, 00:53:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As if on cue, a soft *DING* could be heard in the earpieces of each marine, FATHER's voice followed a split second after it "Data analysis complete....USMC Vessel USS Mitchem threat data base updated and ready for review via Platoon Officer's personal computer......Mission objectives stand as is, full use of lethal force has been authorized"&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>26-06-2010, 01:42:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br><strong>"The only thing I want to hear out of you Reaper is your kill count, I got two for sure."</strong><br>My grin flashed once my polarized visor of my visor cleared and soon afterward I was removing my helmet to get something that was not recycled air into my lungs, I immediately caught the smell of acrid smoke, gun smoke and sundered flesh and I took a deep breath as if it was the greatest smell in the world. Turning my attention on the dead creatures I kicked one over and inspected it from far away as Sarge asked me the million dollar question. <br><strong>"If Father knew of these things Sarge, they left me out of the loop. Nothing in my briefing had anything remotely close to what we saw here today. We had expected rebels but I can guess we know what happened to them now."</strong><br><em>Still things were not adding up, why the barricades to prevent entry IN? What happened to the tools and everything in this colony of worth? </em><br><br>I knew once the adrenaline went down I would feel the fatigue of the day but it was not the time to even think of bunking down for the day. The beep from father came after that, making me think the spooks in intelligence truly had done something to wire me to Papa himself. Turning my attention to the reports I snorted.<br><strong>"Ok, High command word is in, we are allowed to use Lethal force on whatever the hell these things are. No changes to our orders" </strong><br>Chuckling at the destruction I looked around.<br><strong>"Sarge, let's get these boys patched, reloaded and moving I do not want to wait around for wave two." </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>26-06-2010, 03:46:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>Taking Reaper's hand, he helped heft the man to his feet and gave him a slap on his uninjured shoulder, effectively offering an unspoken <em>"Glad to see you're still in one piece."</em> Rome walked up to one of the fallen, larger black creatures and pushed his boot against its' intact, elongated <em>head</em>. Kneeling down next to the creature he examined it, careful not to touch it with his hands. <strong>"What the fuck are they? I mean look at this thing,"</strong> he removed his combat knife from its sheath located over the left side of his chest and poked at it. <strong>"What is this, its head? Looks like my dick... only smaller."</strong> He grinned stupidly at whoever happened to be looking in his direction, rather pleased with his brilliant joke. <strong>"Whatta we got, scientists getting their rocks off researching how to make some kind of dickhead creatures? Sick fucks!</strong> <br><br>He stood up, sheathing his blade again and kicking the creature angrily. <strong>"I told ya'll motherfuckers I was gonna kill all ya'll, didn't I?"</strong> He kicked it again, hard enough to roll the creature over and spat on it. <strong>"DIDN'T I!?"</strong> Gripping the M-56, he lowered it level before him, glancing at the motion tracker Gizmo had jerry-rigged to the <em>Sexy Beast</em>. Negative feedback at the moment indicated all was clear... for now. he nodded at Lt. Mengsk's comment and replied, <strong>"Scanner's clear at the moment Lieutenant, no new contacts. I say we fall back to a more defensible position and set up a perimeter before we run into more dickheads. What about the control room, we should be able to find out more about what's going on from there."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>26-06-2010, 06:29:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He heard FATHER's "permission" come in on his ACR.&nbsp; "Yeah, thanks," he said sarcastically.&nbsp; He surveyed the mission status in his own head.&nbsp; He knew that they still needed to find out what happened.&nbsp; It was very likely that these creatures could have killed all the colonists, but they needed to finish finding out the "why" and the "how" of what was going on.&nbsp; If there was one survivor around here, they needed to find him.&nbsp; <br><br>"Sir, we're pushing our luck here.&nbsp; These things aren't dumb animals.&nbsp; That was a coordinated attack...like a wolf pack.&nbsp; I say we get back to the Mitchum and wait for re-enforcements."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>26-06-2010, 12:40:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>B Gun was still armed. I left it active where it would guard the walkway to the School. I moved around the Hab block floor, being careful to avoid the softly sizzling patches of floor where the insides of these creatures had fallen.<br><br>I heard Lance Corporal Rome's analysis of our enemy and logged his comments. He was like this often and his mood had no effect on me. He did make one comment that was of interest.<br><br>I looked up at him.<br><br><strong>"We do not know that company scientists are doing research here. These life forms are not likely to be indigenous; LV-1875 was not reported to be supporting any native species and it's small mass, lack of atmosphere and lack of a food chain suitable to support such a large aggressive species indicates they are not native. It would be highly unlikely that Weyland-Yutani would knowingly establish a colony on a planetoid that was supporting a hive of such animals. Therefore..."</strong> my brain ran through two or three dozen possible scenarios, <strong>"We should consider one of three possibilities: first, that one or more of these creatures arrived with the colonists aboard a freighter. Second, that these creatures are like us - visitors here which implies they are capable of space travel <em>or they arrived on a ship belonging to a person or persons unknown...</em>"</strong> I added the emphasis to that, <strong>"Or Weyland-Yutani deliberately brought one or more here for experimentation~"</strong> I looked around the Hab block. <em>That unknown structure five clicks south west.</em> Beside my boot heel half of a melted teddy bear lay face up in a puddle of acidic sludge. <strong>"~with unfortunate consequences for the colonists."</strong><br><br>I had to perform two tasks of vital importance.<br><br><strong>"I need to access the colony's mainframe, the cabling here is out of commission, and I need to dissect one of these c~"</strong> I was interrupted by a slithering noise and a loud <em>thud</em> in the corner of the Hab block nearest where we had entered. In an instant I unshouldered my pulse rifle and trained it on the object that had fallen. It was the body of one of the small brown fast aliens. I looked up. It had fallen from the tier two walkway level. Up there a jagged hole was melted in the metal planking.<br><br>The dead alien was above and <em>behind</em> Alpha team's firing line. <strong>"Wait. Where did that come from? We have an insecure perimeter here."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Zillah</strong> on <strong>26-06-2010, 17:36:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				PFC Yui 'Zippo' Sakuraba<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3205891#msg3205891">Quote from: Haibane on 26-06-2010, 12:40:27</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"Wait. Where did that come from? We have an insecure perimeter here."</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Yui looked up at the jagged hole. "Great ... as though we didn't have enough damn problems," she muttered.&nbsp; She picked up Two-Forty, looking around the block floor, thinking if one dead one had fallen through, then how many live ones were hidden somewhere?<br><br>She looked over at Senjo, and pointed at the dead creature. "See? Dissect <em>that</em>. Problem solved," she said. "I say if we don't find any survivors in the next five minutes, we get the hell back to the Mitchum. We're just sitting ducks here."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>28-06-2010, 00:26:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v296/rcburner/GauntManphoto2.jpg)</div><br><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: impact;" class="bbc_font"><span style="font-size: 36pt;" class="bbc_size">--BROODING--</span></span></strong></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>28-06-2010, 13:26:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer quickly tended to Reaper's wounds, using another powder pack and cleaning the wound with a larger use of disinfecting foam, then applying a bandage. Reaper was a little more more wounded than she had thought, and wanted to tell the Lieutenant he should remain with Senjo and her sentry guns, but knew Reaper wouldn't listen to her advice, the only time she ever got what she wanted from him was when he passed out from blood loss.<br><br>Which was likely, if he strained himself or was wounded again. But none the less, accounting for all the scrapes and bruises, everyone had a clean bill of health and an itchy bandage to go along. She cradled her pulse rifle with both hands, seemingly relaxing a bit as the adrenaline of their contact came down, and the tired headache set in. She now realised that she hadn't sounded off, but had stuck her face in front of everyone elses so far, except Senjo since she cannot really be 'wounded' in the same critical sense, and was probably the only one who would tell Jennifer if she were wounded.<br><br>Besides that fact, Senjo wasn't really her specialty, she didn't know how the sentry gun totting foxhole bunny worked, and she didn't much care. If Senjo had a cut, she healed up pretty quick. If she got her guts ripped out... what would happen? Did the synthetic have guts? Did she even need them? Nobody told her shit, nobody being the Company. But as far as Jennifer was concerned, if Senjo called for a Corpsman, she would come running. End of complaint, story, whatever.<br><br>Jennifer got off the line of thought as she inspected one of the corpses. Her relatively limited medical knowledge pointed to the exoskeleton itself, the outside of these fuckers. It looked hard, she didn't touch it but it seemed bullets capable of ripping walls to shreds didn't do a whole bunch unless in large quantities on these guys. 10mm caseless ammunition was powerful, but the current bad guys didn't seem to mind, they had walked into a shit storm, that bad feeling return and Jennifer gave Rome an uncertain, and uncharacteristic, concerned frown. <br><br>She sorted out her medical kit, seemingly everyone's wounds had been tended to for now and in the hustle, she'd just put things where ever. She liked to keep critical stuff near the back, of the case, close to her actual body, and the less critical stuff outward. It allowed quicker movement, as the critical stuff was a bit more bulky and the less critical, bandages and such, were light and easy to move away. She had a lot of stuff, lucky for her to pack a good deal of supplies, or lucky for everyone else.<br><br>"<strong>I disagree, there may be colonists left alive.</strong>" Jennifer piped up after hearing Zippo speak. "<strong>We do have a job to do... sir.</strong>" Jennifer finished her sentence with an attentive look at Lieutenant Mengsk. "<strong>If nothing else, we should set up the sentry guns outside the main gate, leave a security detail there and go check out that unknown structure. If any of those theories Senjo cooked up-</strong>" Jennifer waved her hand towards the synthetic."<strong>-are real, then we may find answers over there.</strong>"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>28-06-2010, 17:50:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3205891#msg3205891">Quote from: Haibane on 26-06-2010, 12:40:27</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">SENJO<br><br><strong>"I need to access the colony's mainframe, the cabling here is out of commission, and I need to dissect one of these c~"</strong> I was interrupted by a slithering noise and a loud <em>thud</em> in the corner of the Hab block nearest where we had entered. In an instant I unshouldered my pulse rifle and trained it on the object that had fallen. It was the body of one of the small brown fast aliens. I looked up. It had fallen from the tier two walkway level. Up there a jagged hole was melted in the metal planking.<br><br>The dead alien was above and <em>behind</em> Alpha team's firing line. <strong>"Wait. Where did that come from? We have an insecure perimeter here."</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"Everybody get back in firing position!" he yelled and walked over to the fallen alien.&nbsp; There was something not quite right here.&nbsp; This kill had been too clean.&nbsp; It had a matching set of wounds on the top of its head.&nbsp; Pulse rifles, smart guns, and sentry guns blew big and gapping holes in whatever they shot.&nbsp; "Someone...or something else killed this thing." He motioned everybody to remain alert but to untense a bit.&nbsp; "Senjo has the best idea I've heard so far, but we still haven't secured a base of operations."<br><br>Even if they killed every xeno in this building, there was still a significant chance that the other being was still here and probably not on their side.&nbsp; The fact it chose to remain hidden was setting him on edge again.&nbsp; <br>"We still need to finish securing this building and check for survivors.&nbsp; We'll proceed to the 2nd Floor as one unit.&nbsp; Watch the corners.&nbsp; Watch your sensors.&nbsp; Senjo, break down the sentry guns and bring them too."<br><br>The unit was stuck between a rock and a hard place right now.&nbsp; He hoped he was making the right choice.&nbsp; Military logic said they were better off continuing forward than completely backtracking.&nbsp; "All right, people.&nbsp; Get ready to move out." He gave the alien corpse one last look.&nbsp; "Let's also watch for our 'friend'."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>28-06-2010, 18:14:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>Once more the well-practised task of dismantling the guns; locking down B Gun, powering them both off and stowing the command consoles, removing the ammunition cylinders and swapping full ones over into slot one of the cargo bags, the partly depleted cylinders being placed in slot four, collapsing the tripods and packing them and the guns away in their carry-drums. I could do this with my eyes shut and within 90 seconds was ready to move.<br><br><strong>"If we secure a base of ops, Sir, and we have the opportunity, I wish to return and take one of these corpses to study."</strong> This was primarily a military operation, if the decision came down to it, a clean up team of scientists could be called in to run a full biopsy and biometric study. Science took a secondary role to protecting the colonists - or those who were left.<br><br>I took up a post near the Leftenant and waited to move out. As the squad got ready to advance I studied the upper Hab block tier again. Something caught my eye.<br><br><strong>"Sergeant O'Shay,"</strong> I pointed up. Above where the second tier walkway was melted by alien blood and in the ceiling high above us was a maintenance duct of some kind, a two foot square aperture closed by a lightweight grille. Two of the grille's slats were distorted, as though someone had gripped it with some strength to pull it free - or pull it back into position. I turned back to the Sergeant. <strong>"A full blueprint construction schematic of the colony would be useful. Tracing the roof space ducting is on my tasks to do."</strong><br><br>A computer terminal was becoming more than important, it was paramount.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>28-06-2010, 19:43:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>He nodded to Senjo.&nbsp; "That plan would be good.&nbsp; These things can move through the ducts and so can our mysterious killer here.&nbsp; Watch 'em.&nbsp; Keep motion sensors on.&nbsp; Reaper, you're on point.&nbsp; To the 2nd Floor, let's move." They began marching toward the nearest hallway stairs.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>29-06-2010, 23:46:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>Standing near the rest of Kilo squad, Rome had turned to face the corridor leading towards the school. He stood poised and ready for another <em>dickhead</em> blitz attack, watching his motion tracker as he listened in on the chatter surrounding him. <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3205891#msg3205891">Quote from: Haibane on 26-06-2010, 12:40:27</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><br><strong>"We do not know that company scientists are doing research here. These life forms are not likely to be indigenous; LV-1875 was not reported to be supporting any native species and it's small mass, lack of atmosphere and lack of a food chain suitable to support such a large aggressive species indicates they are not native. It would be highly unlikely that Weyland-Yutani would knowingly establish a colony on a planetoid that was supporting a hive of such animals. Therefore..."</strong> my brain ran through two or three dozen possible scenarios, <strong>"We should consider one of three possibilities: first, that one or more of these creatures arrived with the colonists aboard a freighter. Second, that these creatures are like us - visitors here which implies they are capable of space travel <em>or they arrived on a ship belonging to a person or persons unknown...</em>"</strong> I added the emphasis to that, <strong>"Or Weyland-Yutani deliberately brought one or more here for experimentation~"</strong> I looked around the Hab block. <em>That unknown structure five clicks south west.</em> Beside my boot heel half of a melted teddy bear lay face up in a puddle of acidic sludge. <strong>"~with unfortunate consequences for the colonists."</strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br><strong>"Yeah, we don't know that scientists are doing research but we don't know that they're not either. All I know is that these mean-ass motherfuckers just tried to eat us... and they almost succeeded. We only killed about a&nbsp; dozen of these fuckers but I have a sneaky feeling that there's a shit-ton more around here somewhere and I have a bad feeling there are no colonists left in this shit hole."<br><br></strong><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3206260#msg3206260">Quote from: Zillah on 26-06-2010, 17:36:27</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"I say if we don't find any survivors in the next five minutes, we get the hell back to the Mitchum. We're just sitting ducks here."<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Rome's brow creased and he shook his head at Zippo's remark. He was a marine and marines don't tuck tail and run when the going gets tough. The idea that another marine would suggest such a thing brought revealed a tinge of anger. He started to speak his mind on the matter but was cut off by Widow, who voiced his ideas in a much more diplomatic and articulate manner.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3213580#msg3213580">Quote from: Destiny Ascension on 28-06-2010, 13:26:24</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><br>"<strong>I disagree, there may be colonists left alive.</strong>" Jennifer piped up after hearing Zippo speak. "<strong>We do have a job to do... sir.</strong>" Jennifer finished her sentence with an attentive look at Lieutenant Mengsk. "<strong>If nothing else, we should set up the sentry guns outside the main gate, leave a security detail there and go check out that unknown structure. If any of those theories Senjo cooked up-</strong>" Jennifer waved her hand towards the synthetic."<strong>-are real, then we may find answers over there.</strong>"<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Rome nodded, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked at Widow with a renewed sense of respect. <strong>"You're damn right..."</strong> was all he managed to say to that.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3205891#msg3205891">Quote from: Haibane on 26-06-2010, 12:40:27</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"I need to access the colony's mainframe, the cabling here is out of commission, and I need to dissect one of these c~"</strong> I was interrupted by a slithering noise and a loud <em>thud</em> in the corner of the Hab block nearest where we had entered. In an instant I unshouldered my pulse rifle and trained it on the object that had fallen. It was the body of one of the small brown fast aliens. I looked up. It had fallen from the tier two walkway level. Up there a jagged hole was melted in the metal planking.<br><br>The dead alien was above and <em>behind</em> Alpha team's firing line. <strong>"Wait. Where did that come from? We have an insecure perimeter here."</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> <br><br>Rome swung the M-56 around to the fallen creature, his finger hovering over the trigger as he watched. Quickly realizing the creature was dead, he swept his weapon upwards to the second level walkway, quickly scanning his motion tracker. <strong>"Scanner's still clear. Lieutenant, may I suggest that we get our asses on the move... <em>soon</em>! The control room, the laundry room, the bathroom... I don't give a shit. As long as it ain't this room anymore. I don't like standing around and waiting for the shit to hit the fan... sir!"</strong> <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3214151#msg3214151">Quote from: CmdrRenegade on 28-06-2010, 17:50:25</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><br><strong>"Everybody get back in firing position!"</strong> he yelled and walked over to the fallen alien.&nbsp; There was something not quite right here.&nbsp; This kill had been too clean.&nbsp; It had a matching set of wounds on the top of its head.&nbsp; Pulse rifles, smart guns, and sentry guns blew big and gapping holes in whatever they shot.&nbsp; <strong>"Someone...or something else killed this thing."</strong> He motioned everybody to remain alert but to untense a bit.&nbsp; <strong>"Senjo has the best idea I've heard so far, but we still haven't secured a base of operations... We still need to finish securing this building and check for survivors.&nbsp; We'll proceed to the 2nd Floor as one unit.&nbsp; Watch the corners.&nbsp; Watch your sensors.&nbsp; Senjo, break down the sentry guns and bring them too."</strong><br><br>... Military logic said they were better off continuing forward than completely backtracking.&nbsp; <strong>"All right, people.&nbsp; Get ready to move out."</strong> He gave the alien corpse one last look.&nbsp; <strong>"Let's also watch for our 'friend'."</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Rome gave a half-grin at MSgt. O'Shay's warning to watch for their 'friend' and replied, <strong>"Yeah, Sexy Beast would <em>kill</em> to say hi."</strong> Acting as rear guard, Rome covered the squad as they filed up the stairs to the 2nd level, keeping his gun trained on the school corridor while glancing frequently to the area the unknown subject was suspected to have made his escape.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>30-06-2010, 20:22:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The stair way led up to a small box of a room with three doors on leading to the north the other to the east and the final to the west. Each door had a single word painted on it in dark red paint. The northern door said "Library" the eastern "Med-Lab" and the western "Town Hall" the northern and western doors' control panels were a cool calm green, while the one to the eastern door was an angry red with the word "locked" flashing over and over in white letters. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>01-07-2010, 03:51:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br>O'Shay surveyed the three doors.&nbsp; "That's encouraging...," he muttered seeing the blinking 'locked' on the med lab's door mechanism.&nbsp; Detecting no threats, he motioned to the west and the "Town Hall" door.&nbsp; There was a good chance of finding a console here that Senjo and/or Gizmo could hack into and find some information on the colonists and these creatures.&nbsp; If nothing else, it could be a decent rally point and base of operations.&nbsp; "Secure the town hall," he ordered.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>02-07-2010, 03:58:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Corporal John Morden</strong><br><br>Oily thoughts were squirming around in Reaper's head as he slowly passed by the locked Med-Lab door.&nbsp; He glared darkly at the red warning sign, keeping a firm grip on his rifle and refusing to wince as a pang of pain shot through his shoulder.&nbsp; He'd managed to avoid a lethal blow from the damnable creature, but he didn't like his chances if another one were to get so close.&nbsp; This wasn't like fighting humans.&nbsp; If another soldier got close enough to him, he could gut him like a fish and feel the slightest rush at watching him panic and attempt to hold in his entrails.&nbsp; But being handy with a knife didn't amount to much against monstrosities that could dissolve a knife to nothing the second they were wounded.&nbsp; His weakness at close range would be the end of him if he wasn't careful.<br><br>Oddly enough, Reaper felt no fear.&nbsp; Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that it would only be odd for other people.&nbsp; He <em>never</em> felt fear.&nbsp; It wasn't bragging, though it had been advantageous in the past.&nbsp; Morden had always known something was broken in him, but at least he was putting his hands and his gun to good use instead of prowling alleys and killing hookers like so many broken men before him.&nbsp; <br><br>But he <em>could</em> be disturbed.&nbsp; Like when he'd looked that xeno right in its eyeless, slavering face.&nbsp; A face that showed no hesitation.&nbsp; A face that showed no fear.&nbsp; It had been in that instant that he realized, like a switch being flicked in his head, that he had far more in common with <em>it</em> then he did with any of his squadmates.&nbsp; He looked like them, walked like them, ate like them, but he <em>felt</em> like some ugly, detestable thing that had taken to wearing human flesh.&nbsp; It was jarring to think about, and he found himself losing focus.&nbsp; That couldn't be afforded.&nbsp; Not now.<br><br>Because out of everyone, he was probably the only one that truly <em>admired</em> the things that had attempted to kill them.<br><br><strong>"Locked,"</strong> he muttered, passing away from the med-lab and taking up the front as the others headed towards the Town Hall.&nbsp; <strong>"Deserted base.&nbsp; Hostile aliens.&nbsp; Infestation.&nbsp; Weyland-Yutani.&nbsp; Locked down medical facility.&nbsp; How much are you all willing to wager that we don't want to know what's past that locked door?"</strong> 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Zillah</strong> on <strong>03-07-2010, 16:59:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				PFC Yui 'Zippo' Sakuraba<br><br><em>I still think this is a very bad idea,</em> thought Yui, but she didn't say anything. For one thing, it wasn't her place to say anything at this point. Orders were orders, they were heading in, and she'd follow them. For another ... well, she wished she'd kept her mouth shut before.&nbsp; Probably the others thought she was just being a timid little scared girl now, not worthy of being a Marine, for even suggesting heading back. And she hadn't meant it as a retreat. Not at all. But it was real clear that these creatures were damn weird, there was something going on that didn't make any sense. Getting some more intel before heading further into the jaws of the beast made sense to her, but ...<br><br>She shrugged as she walked along. <em>Ours is not to reason why ...</em><br><br>She kept her hands on the trigger of the Double-Forty. She rolled her eyes as she saw that blinking word on the eastern door: "locked". <em>Oh good, that doesn't sound like a trap waiting to happen. Bet there's nothing awful hiding in there ...</em> But she continued on downward to the Town Hall with the others.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3230494#msg3230494">Quote from: Shihong on 02-07-2010, 03:58:24</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"Locked,"</strong> he muttered, passing away from the med-lab and taking up the front as the others headed towards the Town Hall.&nbsp; <strong>"Deserted base.&nbsp; Hostile aliens.&nbsp; Infestation.&nbsp; Weyland-Yutani.&nbsp; Locked down medical facility.&nbsp; How much are you all willing to wager that we don't want to know what's past that locked door?"</strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"A week's pay and a box of cookies," Yui said with a wry grin. "I get the feeling we'll have to go in there anyway at some point, though ..."<br><br>She moved onward, looking in the shadows for something, anything. She liked setting traps, she didn't like walking into them ...<br><br>She wished she had her teddy bear.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>03-07-2010, 20:45:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>As Kilo shook out and formed a loose column behind Corporal Morden, each marine using the opposite side of the stair case from the one ahead of them, maximising fire lanes, minimising risk of a burst of fire taking two down at once, we climbed away from the Hab Block. Near the rear of the column with the Leftenant in front and Lance Corporal Beneke covering the rear I cast a look back and down into the large room we were leaving. I had wanted to run a more thorough check of the carcasses and I had wanted to examine the second storey walkway where that other alien had been mysteriously killed but the military requirements of our mission over rode others and we advanced.<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_33.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_34.jpg)<br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_35.jpg) <br><br>As Morden stepped out into a junction of doorways on the upper level we moved through one of them towards a large space marked on the colony plans as 'Town Hall'. Several motion trackers, scanning in front, behind and to the flanks sent out their calm <em>tup-tup-tup-tup</em> search pulses. Everything came back green. Nothing was in motion except Kilo.<br><br>The door to the Town Hall was not locked and with a flurry of motion the soldiers at the head of the column activated the sliding panel and entered, sweeping the room beyond with their weapons. Within a few tense minutes of leaving the Hab Block we were all inside the next vast space, even bigger than the room below. At the rear, Beneke covered the doorway we had entered.<br><br>I scanned the huge room. There ought to be an office area here, a computer terminal.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>03-07-2010, 23:00:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In earlier days the Town Hall had been a place to meet and discuss, to debate and decide. A place where every member of the colony, whether they be the magistrate or the janitor, had an equal voice. The room itself consisted of a single podium set at the far end of the room, with several rows of benches set in front of it so that the room's speaker could be seen by everyone in the room. Other than that the room itself was rather bare and plain. A small terminal was set in one corner, what ever had happened to the colonists hadn't happened in the town hall. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>03-07-2010, 23:24:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The large room was undisturbed. Dropping my cargo of guns and ammunition in the centre of the room and keeping my rifle slung I went to the terminal and reached to power it on.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>04-07-2010, 08:26:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>Bring up the rear I was one of the last ones into the town hall, hitting the panel to close the door behind me. I scanned the entire floor and was thankful for an open space with no evidence of tampering or destruction. This was exactly what we needed, a place to rest, eat and raise or morale for a few hours. But that did not mean we would kick of our boots and play spin the bottle, there was much to do before Kilo could rest a moment. <br><br>Like the walking computer she was, Senjo was already off doing something, I wondered if she ever felt fatigue or hunger like us humans did. I did not have time to think it over, my attention still on the entry ways. The sooner this place was locked down the quicker we could ease the tension a notch or two. How long had it been since we dropped down? It must have been a half a day at least? I was not sure, my body&nbsp; felt the pangs of hunger but the thirst was the worst of it. <br><br>I dug around for a pouch of liquid and sucked it down after my helmet came off. My hair was damp with sweat, I was thankful to have that damn helmet off and looked forward to removing the rest of the suit soon. <br><strong>"I call that bench."</strong><br>I grinned and pointed at the bench that looked wide enough to hold a man if it two of them were pushed side by side. So it seemed the wood shop was used to give the cold mechanized colony a more "homely" taste, complete with "dick head aliens" as Rome would say. <br>No orders came from me, Sarge was calling the shots and I had no issue letting him hold the reigns a little longer. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>04-07-2010, 09:34:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>Data... data... information... facts... they were what Kilo needed. They were what I lived on. The rest of Kilo dumped gear and began drinking water. This was my well.<br><br>The machine was in working order and running. It accepted a standard company login and I began to check through the files on disc. This terminal did not have a great deal of local information, for that I needed a security team console or one from the science lab or the command centre but what was here was revealing.<br><br>The first record up was of a town council meeting held some time previously - the last, it transpired. I checked the date. A matter of several weeks ago which was not a good sign. The colonists had gathered here to take a vote on whether or not to abandon the colony. They had voted in favour. The plan agreed on was to evacuate using all available crawlers and tractors although a destination was not stated. A small group were to remain behind in the command centre and medical bay and attempt to get the long range comms back online. The votes totalled 71, only about 35% of the total number of adults in the colony.<br><br>I stared at the screen.<br><br>Citizens did not take votes when bugs were breaking down their doors, therefore this meeting had happened after the incident began but before it became desperate.<br><br>Order had broken down. The vehicle workshop and woodshop had been stripped of equipment and the Hab Block abandoned. It was logical that this was the equipment and supplies taken to make a final defence line at the command centre. Therefore the vote recorded here had taken place prior to the evidence of hasty defensive measures we had so far encountered. Vehicle spares may have been taken with the crawler convoy - supplies for the lifeboats.<br><br>The town hall records gave no information about how the attacks started; their cause. The command centre was calling to me. I needed access to a terminal in there.<br><br><strong>"Leftenant. You should come see this."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>04-07-2010, 09:54:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Downing a sugar concentrate from a metallic pouch that substituted for a meal on the field, I walked toward Senjo and the computer she was working at when she called me over. My shotgun had been "sheathed" on my back, the barrel pointed down with the handle a quick draw away. My foot steps sounded to loud to me, my mind preparing myself for what I was about to see. I was expecting video of those aliens ripping apart the colonist but I got something even more confusing. <br><strong>"They fucking left the colony..." </strong><br><br>There was a sliver of hope for those colonist but not much, the terrain outside this colony was hard but livable with proper equipment. According to what they had taken, they could scrounge up some sort of existence out of the walls of this pre-fab hunk of steel. <br>A new thought stabbed into my brain, a hunch as some would call it and I looked over to the synthetic with my eyes. Man made or not I could feel what she wanted, perhaps my own hopes were reflected with my so called "perception."<br><strong>"Find me a maintenance corridor, air duct, anything we can use to sneak towards the control room Senjo." </strong><br>I reached for another sugar concentrate pouch and began to suck it down, I was going to need the energy I was gonna have a long night... 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>04-07-2010, 12:59:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon<br><br><strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>As rear guard, Rome trailed the marine column up the steps and into the next room, the M56 ever vigilant, moving in measured, horizontal and vertical sweeps. All of Rome's heightened senses were judicious, one could simply tell by looking at his wide eyes,&nbsp; intensely alert. As Kilo moved into the next room and the all clear was given, the door was closed behind them and the marines all began to offload their gear, following the Lieutenant's lead. Rome removed his helmet and rubbed his hand over his bald head as he relaxed a bit. <strong>"Too bad our mission wasn't to find where the colonist are NOT. Mission complete... AGAIN."</strong> Rome joked as he disconnected the smartgun's battery and dismounted it from the swivel base, laying it carefully on a nearby bench. He unlatched the chest plate and slipped free of it's heat soaking confines, then retrieved a MRE from his pack. He sat down on the bench next to his weapon and began prepping the MRE for consumption, mumbling to himself as he did. If anyone was listening in, they'd catch bits of his ramblings here and there, <strong>"... god damn steak... this fucking rock... ain't no colonists.... "</strong> He spoke up louder at the next bit, to emphasize his disdain for their current situation, <strong>"... fuckin' dick heads running around everywhere! Eating people! ... FUBAR .... Fubar."</strong> Finally he shoved a mouthful of his MRE in his mouth and chewed, still grumbling only now it was inaudible with a mouthful of slop.<br><br>Rome glanced around at Kilo as he ate, pausing to slurp thirstily at the tube to his hydration bladder slung over his back, built into his pack. He took the time to replay in his mind the attack they had sustained earlier in the Hab block. Only now did it begin to sink in how close he and his squad mates had come to death. He paused his chewing for a moment and shook his head with a grin, <strong>"Poor bastards,"</strong> he mumbled. He had to be honest with himself, he was surprised that Gizmo not only survived but came out unscathed in their last attack. He was pleasantly surprised by Zippo's performance, thinking her to be more likely to freeze up or just totally freak out and lose all combat functionality after witnessing those horrid creatures. Reaper didn't surprise him all, except when he talked... and usually what he said. The rest of the squad was par for the course by his estimation. <br><br>He glanced over to Widow and waved her over as she began to lighten her load to grab some grub. <strong>"Widow, bring your fine ass over here and have a sit down with Rome."</strong> They always teased each other that way since he often found himself either bringing up the rear of the column or near the front, behind the point man. More often then not the person in front of him in the formation was Widow, and when it wasn't widow it was Reaper. He joked with Reaper the same way, but Reaper never reacted favorably to Rome's calling his ass 'fine' ... just a blank stare that seemed to say something akin to <em>"I'll remove your fucking heart out with a spoon."</em>, so Rome always laughed boisterously in an effort to defuse the awkward moment.<br><br>He glanced over to Senjo and the Lieutenant as they stared at some computer screen, talking about god knows what... probably what kind of shitty situation they could put themselves in next. He remembered suddenly where the creature had stabbed at him earlier, penetrating through some of his armor but not his skin and he set about to investigate the damage, once again grumbling in disgust.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Zillah</strong> on <strong>04-07-2010, 15:35:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				PFC Yui 'Zippo' Sakuraba<br><br>Yui didn't trust anything about the Town Hall. The deeper they moved into unknown territory, the less she liked it. Too much weirdness. She hoped that Senjo would find something - anything - of use on the terminal. If she didn't, Yui thought they might be in serious trouble. <em>Like we aren't already</em>, she silently added.<br><br>She strolled around the far edges of the Town Hall first, looking for crawlspaces or hidey-holes ... someplace where a nasty little xeno like the one they'd found earlier might be making a nest. She had the sinking suspicion that the vicious little buggers were like mice - if you see one, that means there's a hundred more you can't see. But since she didn't find anything, she eventually took a seat on one of the benches, plopping down onto it wearily, and started drinking stale water from her canteen.<br><br>She took off her helmet, staring at the sizable dent that had been made in it. She shuddered and quickly put her helmet back on.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>06-07-2010, 00:12:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer recovered her pack, strapping everything into its secure pouch on her waist and following after the rest of the squad. For now, she left her motion tracker on its small clip, the number already used and the tight quarters Kilo was moving through didn't require her to maintain her motion tracker as much as her rifle, they only needed so many. <br><br>As Kilo ascended the stairs, Jennifer kept her pulse rifle raised up and pointed ahead, sweeping it slowly from side to side, doing a full 360 as she reached the top of the stairs, immediately behind Reaper as they approached the town hall doors. She scanned the walls and ceiling, looking for holes, hatches or vents that might provide a sneaky ambush as Kilo attempted entry, because she knew they were going to, into the town hall. And she was right, like usual.<br><br>Jennifer entered the room first, quickly moving towards the left side of the room straight out of the door but keeping her rifle trained towards the center, scanning the entire room in a spin of motion, precise but rapid. Per the usual standard, she kept her rifle in firing position and her finger on the trigger until the entire squad had entered the room and the door was secured. She did a quick move about the room, noting the terminal as Senjo approached it, her rifle slowly lowering until she was seemingly grasping it at leisure near her stomach, but in truth she could get it ready to fire in under a second, the safety still on and her attention on a hair, Jennifer approached the door and stood guard, watching as everyone unloaded some gear, she did the same, dropping her main pack and some of her other gear on one of the benches.<br><br>Upon hearing Rome's call, she looked over at him and flipped him the bird, slowly approaching with her weapon still in her hands, she grinned at him and ninja'd a little bite from his MRE. She could do without eating for another while, she'd rather stand guard than eat her MRE. The only one she knew she had was turkey and beef, which meant mystery meat and beef substitute. She'd heard the Army had top of the line MRE's, and the Marines got the shaft. She smiled at Rome, standing slightly off to his right, half with her back to him, looking at the door. "<strong>I'd douse your nads in ice if I were you, I doubt these chumps-</strong>" Jennifer threw her thumb towards the door, implicating the deceased bad guys downstairs, glancing at Rome. "<strong>-would get the novelty of a combat quicky, but if your so inclined, keep my ass on your mind all you want, big guy.</strong>" Jennifer gave Rome a firm smack on the cheek, grinned widely as she glanced over at the Lieutenant and Senjo, overhearing a small bit of their conversation, but not enough to get the jist of it. Probably a video of the colonists getting lunched up by Kilo's new friends downstairs, or their buddies.<br><br>Jennifer nodded towards the Lieutenant. "<strong>Air ducts? Aparently the Lieutenant gets the idea of a free meal for the bad guys.</strong>" Jennifer whispered, returning her look to the door, half expecting it to burst open and some big ass, angry bug to come charging through, pissed off about its dead buddies downstairs.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>06-07-2010, 00:55:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Find me a maintenance corridor, air duct, anything we can use to sneak towards the control room Senjo."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div> <strong>"Aye, aye, Sir."</strong><br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo_20.jpg)</div> I got to work at the terminal, this time seriously. I tried additional routes into the colony's network by attempting some of the higher admin logins I was aware were standard. These got me only a similar level of information I had already access to - but no constructional blueprints.<br><br>When that failed I closed the O/S and brought up the boot sequence and interrupted it with a simple command. Now I was in behind the pretty things like dialogue boxes and access windows and form logins the colonists saw every day. Here I could set all that aside and work my way around in the background of the network.<br><br>I tried something that on the face of it seemed simple but might gain me access to new data, particularly data not stored on this local drive. I needed to see the full network and get at the drives on the server, which frustratingly, the login that opened the Town Council meeting database did not grant access to. I typed in an alphanumeric string, one of several I had picked up during 'school' and which were nothing to do with the Colonial Marine Corps. I was aware these codes were used to talk not to individual terminals or programs, but to MOTHER. Weyland-Yutani's background system. This was a company colony with a company network and company hardware. Parts of MOTHER'S code would be on this system somewhere. I just needed to find her. When I did would she know anything?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>08-07-2010, 08:56:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Upon hearing Rome's call, she looked over at him and flipped him the bird, slowly approaching with her weapon still in her hands, she grinned at him and ninja'd a little bite from his MRE.</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Rome grinned audaciously at Jennifer and made a 'V' with his index and middle finger, placed them at either corner of his mouth and licked at the space between them, his fat, pink tongue flitting and squirming like some alien tentacle searching for something to penetrate. <strong>"Anytime you're ready, baby girl,"</strong> he muttered to her as she neared him. He let her steal a bite of his MRE, spooning another mouthful after her. <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">She smiled at Rome, standing slightly off to his right, half with her back to him, looking at the door. "<strong>I'd douse your nads in ice if I were you, I doubt these chumps-</strong>" Jennifer threw her thumb towards the door, implicating the deceased bad guys downstairs, glancing at Rome. "<strong>-would get the novelty of a combat quicky, but if your so inclined, keep my ass on your mind all you want, big guy.</strong>" Jennifer gave Rome a firm smack on the cheek, grinned widely as she glanced over at the Lieutenant and Senjo, overhearing a small bit of their conversation, but not enough to get the jist of it. Probably a video of the colonists getting lunched up by Kilo's new friends downstairs, or their buddies.<br><br>Jennifer nodded towards the Lieutenant. "<strong>Air ducts? Aparently the Lieutenant gets the idea of a free meal for the bad guys.</strong>" Jennifer whispered, returning her look to the door, half expecting it to burst open and some big ass, angry bug to come charging through, pissed off about its dead buddies downstairs.</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Even as Jennifer spoke, Rome was carefully glancing about the room at the rest of Kilo, making certain that he was in the clear for what he was about to do. Her words only made it seem more fitting and, feeling safe that none of the others would see, Rome snuck one large hand up to squeeze at Jennifer's rear, which she had half presented to him. He wasn't sure if her positioning was intentional, but Rome wasn't about to let a good opportunity to feel up her ass simply pass him by unchecked. His massive paw nearly covered one whole cheek and as he grabbed her, his thick fingers, like a small gang of perverted intruders, easily wedged between the meaty half-globes of her ass, shoving the material of her BDU bottoms and her panties, should she be wearing any, with them, effectively giving her a wedgie. <strong>"You can douse my nads later, when we have some alone time."</strong> He squeezed her one last time and removed his hand, smacking her on the bottom where the material of her BDUs had tightened snuggly thanks to his invading fingers. <strong>"Then, I can put your ass on something <em>other</em> than my mind, something thick and meaty."</strong> He chuckled and winked, then grabbed at his crotch to illustrate, as though she had no idea what he insinuating.<br><br>He looked around again, quickly double checking that no one had witnessed his "assault" on her. Satisfied that he was in the clear as far as the rest of Kilo was concerned, or at least as far as he knew, he waited for the beating he knew she was about to deliver, wincing only slightly.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>09-07-2010, 04:12:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>Sarge HAD overheard Rome and Widow's not so subtle flirting/banter.&nbsp; And he had caught a glimpse of Rome doing...something.&nbsp; He would only step in depending on how out of hand it got.&nbsp; Fraternizing was not necessarily so bad in their case.&nbsp; They were in the same squad and at the same rank.&nbsp; Beyond regulation, it actually seemed to help them stick together rather than cause a rift.&nbsp; If they started going at it with fists...or with certain other body parts, THAN he would step in.&nbsp; That was his way.&nbsp; He was running a Marine platoon, not a junior high class.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>13-07-2010, 05:36:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The back door hacks, the pass codes, the jumping through hoops and then some other calculations delayed me for several minutes. Then I was in. Into where I needed to be. A sea of information was there. I dived and swam. If I could experience the emotion of exhilaration rather than just understand it, I would be exhilarated. Even so, I worked with renewed vigour, the Leftenant watching over my shoulder. First priority; access to the command centre. I pulled up the maintenance team's schematics. More accurate than the construction blueprints they showed construction details to a finer tolerance and more importantly they showed actual build data rather than the standard colony intended build that the Mitchum's computers held. Here we would find out what <em>had</em> been constructed rather than what was <em>planned</em> to be constructed.<br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/KiloPlatoon_36.jpg)</div>The blue plans filled the screen. My eye tracked to where we were now and where the Leftenant required access to. A service duct carrying electrical cabling and designed to take a human frame - just - for maintenance linked the Town Hall with the Command Centre.<br><br><strong>"Here, Sir,"</strong> I pointed to the trunking. A thin white line indicating the smallest access duct. <strong>"From... that wall panel there~"</strong> I looked up from the terminal and saw a grilled hatch in the wall above the door Kilo had entered by. <strong>"Via this trunk here... through here. Take a left here. A right here. And then... Ops Room. Behind the external comms desk panel,"</strong> It was a plain crawl with only three junctions. It was simple but a tight fit. There were also junctions down to the Science Lab and the Armoury and down to the lower level via the Medical Bay and School. It was also... I studied the scale of the blueprints... <strong>"It is over two hundred and fifty metres. On your stomach that could take you... ten minutes each way. Including a check of the Ops Room and accessing the terminals there. Forty minutes."</strong> It was actually a generous estimate. Any number of unknown factors could extend the transit time.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>14-07-2010, 22:42:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br><strong>"Then it looks like we are packing light." </strong><br>I commented as new orders came in from FATHER, my attention drawn for a moment. There was bad news and there was good news, no one could blame me if I kept the bad news to myself.<br><strong>"Listen up Kilo, we have back up coming up to meet with us, rest up and get some shut eye if you can. Papa will be home soon I am going to go get a pack of cigs." </strong><br>Moving over to the service hatch Senjo had pointed out I made sure to only carry computer and shotgun with me, my pack and everything else that would have burned me down was left behind. With my gun ready I opened the hatch and peaked inside, ready to blast to hell anything that came my way. <br><strong>"Senjo, let's move." </strong><br>Strapping the gun onto my back I leaped up high and grabbed onto the edge of the small passageway, pulling myself up with ease. I waited for Senjo, making sure she was behind me before I made my way towards the command center, using the directions she had given me. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>15-07-2010, 00:49:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br><strong>"Wait. There is..."</strong> I frowned. This was interesting. And useful. <strong>"Sir, I think you should see this. It seems to be. It is a log. The log of the Colony Mayor. One... Carthag Vankatov. The entries cover~"</strong> I was surprised, <strong>"~six years."</strong> I checked the date of the last entry. <strong>"It ends sixteen days ago."</strong><br><br>I looked up at the Leftenant, stripped for action and with the cover to the utility trunk already pulled off.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>16-07-2010, 15:01:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk <br><br>My head poked out from under the maintenance duct I was prepared to take when I heard Senjo make a discovery. Any information was useful and perhaps the logs had details that would prevent us from rushing into a blood bath. A few moments later I was hanging of the edge of the duct in a pull up position before I dropped down to the floor with a graceful landing. <br><strong>"Let's hope it is not just his diary, lets see what he had to say." </strong><br><em>Sixteen days...that is a hell of a long time to be out on this planet's surface, waiting for rescue or help.</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>16-07-2010, 18:20:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer stiffened a little when Rome grabbed her backside, trying his best to grab onto some big, meaty street booty you'd find in a place like this under normal circumstances. Colonial booty calls were the best, but Jennifer knew the best was between her and the sheets. The only thing Rome could get his hands on was a firm, toned and well taken care of pretty little ass. A Marine ass, so double the danger. Get lost or go find jack frost, either way, your dead. Or Rome would be, if he were a civ. But, she had given Rome a one night earthquake to shake up his boring sex life, and she felt he was competant enough to do as he was told, like a good Marine, he knew how to follow orders. <br><br>In truth, however, Jennifer respected Rome enough to sleep with him. She wasn't sap headed enough for love, and too proud for pleasure. It was a respect thing, more than anything else, she didn't feel the need or desire to do anything not involving soldierin', but knew Rome well enough it helped both him and herself not only concentrate, but bond. Of course, the fact he knew what he was doing and she knew how to do that extra twist with her hips to get the blood overcharging, meant it was never a dull moment when the clothes started flying.<br><br>Once Rome finished his padding pawn assault, Jennifer turned to face him, abruptly bringing up her boot so she was half leaning on the bench Rome had seated himself on. With her boot, she applied that critical piece of pressure under the codpiece. Just enough, to stimulate the excitable part, and hurt the sensitive part. Whichever he felt more was up to him, but the sinister look on Jennifer's face was intention. "<strong>Att'a boy Rome...</strong>" Jennifer smacked him on the cheek again, winking as she removed her foot and jerked her head towards the vent, sitting down next to Rome and stealing some more of his MRE, still facing towards the door, however. "<strong>Free lunch...</strong>"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>17-07-2010, 14:43:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>The Leftenant came over and bent to look at the monitor. A few other marines came around too, curious. I scrolled through the plain text file - no graphics, nothing embedded, no diagrams or maps. Just written information.<br><br>I ran it fast up the screen, speed reading then stopped.<br><br><strong>"Normal colony reporting. Nothing unusual. Construction. Mining. Terraforming. Voting for a Mayor. Children. Breathable atmosphere after three point eight years. The birth of the first child on-planet after four point three years. Standard company colony practice, all calendars run on Earth referenced reckoning. Hm. The colony took delivery of a number of pet dogs. Their chickens and cattle did not do well and died. Mayor voted back in for a second term. This is five point two years after planetfall."</strong><br><br><strong>"There's nothing unusual at all in the first five years of the colony's life. It would seem logical that the creatures we have encountered are not native to the planet."</strong><br><br>I scrolled more. Then an entry came up that made me stop and read more carefully.<br><br><strong>"The Company established a training facility here. Yes. Here. <em>"Article 948-H of our colonial contract has been activated….This&nbsp; article dictates that in return for their sponsoring of our colonization efforts Weyland-Yutani has the authority to construct corporate facilities on the planet’s surface so long as they do not interfere with the colonization process. W/Y will be building an executive training facility here on LV-1875."</em> That entry is five point five years after planetfall."</strong><br><br><strong>"The two facilities were kept separate. Though... the W-Y security guards began fraternizing with the younger female colonists. There's some friction reported here."</strong><br><br>I scrolled further.<br><br><strong>"Six point two years. The W-Y facility was taken over by a Dr. Stetton and a large shipment of supplies and staff landed. A Dr. Paxton was in charge before that. The Mayor of the colony voices his doubts that the company site is a training facility. The ATMO shielding sensors and the colony's seismic sensors reported a lot of activity at the facility at that time."</strong><br><br>The next entry caused me to stop speed reading and pay attention.<br><br><strong>"Six point seven years. Reports of explosions at the W-Y facility. Also a bad storm. The colony lost it's main transmitter dish in the storm and lost all contact with the facility. That was forty-nine days ago. There's a... there's a medical report of a man named Rosco being sedated. He was claiming to have seen dragons outside the compound. Black dragons. This is forty-three days ago. Here."</strong><br><br>I pointed to the entry.<br><br><em>"Mayor’s Log F210<br><br>We’ve sedated old man Rosco, he was ranting about a heard of dragons running out last night! Can you believe it dragons for God’s sake! He went on and on about how they were black and scary and they were led by a “REALLY fucking big one” and how he ran off before they could grab him."</em><br><br><strong>"The pet dogs all went missing. The colonists let them run outside mostly and within five days of the Rosco dragon incident they all vanished. This log entry suspects the W-Y facility has taken them for testing. To me that isn't logical. If they required live animals for testing they would ship them in."</strong><br><br>Within two or three entries things got serious.<br><br><strong>"Thirty-seven days ago. The colony doctor - a Dr. Groves - was sent over to the company facility to make enquiries about the missing dogs. When the doctor returned he was scared and reported that it looked like the facility had been attacked. Broken windows, main doors open... Hm. The next day the Chief of the Town Watch was sent over with several Constables. Nine men. Armed with flashlights and shotguns. They didn't report back. Last report was they had reached the facility and were heading inside. A second group of men went out after two days. Here."</strong> I pointed to the screen. Marines crowded round.<br><br><em>"Mayor’s Log F219<br><br>Almost midnight now. We made it back about 10 hours ago… God I wish I could forget what happened… We made it to the facility without any trouble. Once we got there we saw Dan’s crawler sitting there just fine. We checked it out and there was nothing wrong with it… nothing except for the fact that we found Dan inside with some… some thing on his face… it looked like a big spider with a tail. It had its arms or legs or whatever wrapped around his head and its tail around his neck. We tried pulling it off but the fucking thing was holding on tight! We had no choice but to leave him there while we checked the building. We went into the lobby and looked around… the place was quite like a tomb. And I think that’s just what it was… a big tomb… we found the other guys inside the lobby… what was left of them anyways, they all had their… God… they had holes in their chests with the bones bent outwards. Like, like something was pushing OUT from INSIDE. I don’t know what kind of animal or gun could do that to someone. We decided to haul ass back to the colony. So we loaded up half of us in my crawler and half in Dan’s as soon as we got back we rushed Dan into Doc Groves’ office and told Groves we needed to get the thing off him… Groves did his best, he used to be a doctor for the military he even served in combat before he retired, but he couldn’t pull it off or pry it off, so he decided to just cut the thing off Dan. Dan’s wife gave him the ok... So… so Groves started to cut. He said he was going to cut along what looked like it’s spine in the hopes of causing its nerves to relax. It looked like it was going fine until the thing started bleeding. Its blood was acidic! And not just a little… it was dangerously acidic. Groves got some on his hand and lost two fingers. Dan… it ran down the creature’s back and tail onto Dan’s neck… we couldn’t save him… He’s dead. We don’t know what kind of disease the body might have so we incinerated it along with the creature which was still attached. The supply ship is scheduled to arrive the day after tomorrow. We are going to put the colony under full lock down until then. There are probably more of these things out there… what the hell were they doing over at that facility, experimenting with spiders?!?!&nbsp; <br><br>Mayor’s Log Entry F223<br><br>The ship didn’t show up yesterday, it should have been here by now. I get the feeling that it’s been stopped or rerouted or something. We’re still on lock down and we can stay that way indefinitely, thank goodness we are self sufficient. I fully intend to keep us locked down until someone shows up. Everyone’s a little jumpy but considering everything they are doing well. The general thought process is that it sucks that Dan and the others are dead but with the colony on lock down those spider things can’t get in and at least no more of us will die.<br><br>-&nbsp; Carthag Vankatov, Mayor of Jackie’s Hope."</em><br><br>Next entry, things began to get bad.<br><br><strong>"Then they attacked. Rosco's Black Dragons. The next few entries report of the outside of the facility being tested by the dragons. Crawling all over the roofs of the structure. They came out at night in the main."</strong><br><br><strong>"Entry of twenty-six days ago. The Mayor reports twenty-eight colonists missing. They vanished in the night from their homes in the Hab Block. No-one heard a thing. The rooms had deposits of a strange slime on them. Here's how they got in."</strong> I indicated the next entry.<br><br><em>"Mayor’s Log Entry F227<br><br>Afternoon, we found how they broke in. They got in through the side hatch out by the vehicle garage. Even though the door was closed and locked! The power for that door is supplied by a line that runs along the side of the building. The creatures cut the power! How did they know to do that? Once they cut the power they just slid the damn thing open like it wasn’t even there. Then I guess they went inside found the Hab block and grabbed our missing people. Everyone’s almost at a panic. They don’t want to stay in the Hab block and I don’t blame them!! I’ve got the entire maintenance team working right now they are welding that door shut along with any other that can be opened like that. Every other door that can have its power killed from the outside is being locked. Every weapon we have has been issued out to someone. I’ve decided to allow anyone who wants to sleep on the 2nd floor instead of in the Hab block to do so. Almost everyone has decided to sleep in the control room with the blast doors closed."</em>&nbsp; <br><br><strong>"The next few entries describe the destruction of the colony. The next day the creatures showed enough intelligence to smash every external camera. The creatures attacked again the next night. The colonists had a lot of guns. Issued from the armoury plus personal pistols and even hunting rifles. There was a battle at the north east blast door. The colonists... lost. Small arms were not powerful enough to stop the creatures. Even wounded they kept coming. Half the colonists were armed and in that fight. Only two or three got away to the blast door of the command centre. The creatures left before daylight. The Mayor questions if they do not like sunlight."</strong><br><br><strong>"That day the colonists voted to abandon the colony and take the tractors and crawlers and all the supplies and split up and try to make it away from this sector of the planet. The Mayor agreed to stay behind and make noise to keep the aliens focused on the colony buildings while the rest escaped."</strong><br><br>I looked through the last few entries.<br><br><strong>"It didn't work. The aliens ignored the colony and split up into packs and went after the crawlers. One by one the individual families were overwhelmed. The last entry is sixteen days ago. The Mayor stayed holed up in the command centre."</strong> I pointed at the final log entry on the screen.<br><br><em>"Mayor’s Log Entry F237 <br><br>They haven’t come back for me….the monsters..they have been leaving me alone, maybe they forgot about me? Maybe they are just waiting? I don’t know. And I don’t care anymore. I’ve had to see and hear all of my friends die around me. And now I’m just tired, I want to rest…I NEED to rest….I’ve got a single pistol here. David gave it to me before he sealed the doors. There’s only one clip but it’s more than enough for what I need…..If you’re reading or listening to this then for the love of God run! Get off planet now while you still can!<br><br>-&nbsp; Carthag Vankatov."</em><br><br>I sat back from the monitor and let the others read.<br><br><strong>"The logical conclusion is that Weyland-Yutani was experimenting on something over at their company facility. They were not able to contain it and it overran their security then came to the colony and destroyed that."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>17-07-2010, 17:32:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He listened to Senjo's speech with a certain detached interest.&nbsp; His eyes widened a bit as soon as Senjo started talking about Rosco and his 'Black Dragons'.&nbsp; That would fit the description of the larger black creatures, especially the one he was looking up at the 'face' of during the battle.&nbsp; The more he heard the worse this sounded.&nbsp; <br><br>"Sir, can I speak with you in private?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>18-07-2010, 07:02:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman “Rome” Beneke</strong><br><br>Rome liked Widow probably better than anyone in the squad. She was mean, she was tough, she was professional. She was a marine. But she was also sexy as hell. Her confidence, the way she carried herself… and those gorgeous blue eyes and blonde hair. She had just the right amount of curves and in all the right places and Rome was a sucker for blue-eyed, blonde haired women with ample curves and attitude. <br><br>Widow had seduced Rome a few months after her reassignment to Kilo. By <em>“seduced”</em> I mean to say that Widow wagged her finger at him and Rome had been all to happy to oblige. It was after a mission and the squad had returned to their transport ship. Widow was in her quarters undressing, getting ready to shower. She had left her door ajar, which was not uncommon. Had they been billeted in proper barracks, there would’ve been no individual quarters. Anyway, after removing her boots and trousers, she noticed Rome outside her door, leering. She noticed a particularly large lump in his combat trousers and decided then and there to try and fulfill his curiosity. Needless to say, her plan didn’t work. Mostly because it was a bad plan. But Rome’s super-hyper sex drive certainly didn’t help her plan either.<br><br>During their downtime, you know between missions, Rome often wondered what it would be like to fuck Senjo... to fuck a synthetic. What would it feel like? Are they anatomically correct on the inside too or would he end up ramming himself into machine parts on her insides. Did she get wet? Did her nipples stiffen? Did she feel pleasure? Could she cum? These were some of the things that busied Rome’s thoughts when they weren’t “in the field.” Even when they were “in the field” he often found his eyes on Widow’s or Senjo’s butt. He probably would be checking out Zippo too if she didn’t always wear that damned ape suit. Nevertheless, Rome never let his lust fueled thoughts interfere with his job. After all, he was a marine… a marine who enjoyed the reputation of being the best damned smartgun operator in the entire Division.<br><br>Widow had surprised Rome with her maneuver to his crotch and, although the pressure she applied to his… “gun” caused him some discomfort, he steeled his resolve, smiling at her through clinched, pearly white teeth. He leaned back into the back of the bench and his legs spread slightly. Jutting his jaw outwards and craning his neck towards her, he let out a low, guttural growl. She removed her booted foot and slapped his cheek again. The stinging sensation radiated from his cheek into the rest of his face but he maintained his defiant grin, as if to say <em>’Do your worst, bitch.’</em>. With a low, growling voice he muttered through clenched teeth, <strong>”When we get back to Mitchum…. You and me’s gonna have a go. And I’m not askin, either.’”</strong> He returned her wink and when she shoved her spoon back into his MRE pouch, he held it closer for her.<br><br>Widow’s head jerked towards the console where Senjo stood and Rome’s gaze followed. Without even thinking about anything, his eyes instantly settled on Senjo’s ass. He stood up as he heard Senjo mention her findings and strode towards the console to investigate further, shifting along the way to accommodate for the abuse his "gun" had just sustained. He stood behind and to the left of Senjo, peeking at the console’s screen over her shoulder. Rome remained silent through most of Senjo’s readings and analysis, trying to limit his interruptions.<br><br><strong>” …The power for that door is supplied by a line that runs along the side of the building. The creatures cut the power! How did they know to do that? Once they cut the power they just slid the damn thing open like it wasn’t even there…”</strong><br><br>Rome couldn’t help himself after hearing that bit and proclaimed, <strong>”Oh, that’s just fucking great. SMART Dickheads. Fan-fucking-tastic!”</strong> He glanced around to everyone quickly and held up both hands in an apology. <strong>”Sorry. Sorry, don’t mind the black man. Please, go on Senjo.”</strong><br><br>He listened as Senjo recounted the bit about the Mayor choosing to stay behind as a distraction to provide his people a diversion for escape. He whistled low and long, rubbing his hand over his bald head.<br><br><strong>”Now *THERE’S* a man with some balls of steel. Too bad his sacrifice was in vain.”</strong> <br><br>Senjo conclude her summary of LV-1875’s logs and the Mayor’s personal logs in her matter-of-fact, expressionless tone.<br><br><em> "The logical conclusion is that Weyland-Yutani was experimenting on something over at their company facility. They were not able to contain it and it overran their security then came to the colony and destroyed that."</em><br><br>Rome arched his thick, dark brow in a sarcastic expression. <strong>”You don’t say? I wonder what they could <em>POSSIBLY</em> have had over there? Anyone?”</strong> He said sarcastically as he turned away from the terminal, moving back to his gear. Glancing back to the others as he sat down next to the stowed gear he’d removed earlier. <strong>"I don't know about *YA'LL* but my money is on poor Rosco's <em>"black dragon"</em> friends.</strong> Placing his hand on the M-56, he leaned back into the bench and smiled, bringing his other arm up to rest along its’ back. <strong>”Guess this means our mission is complete, right Sarge? We’re getting off this rock, right? I mean, we know why we lost communications with the colony and we know that all the colonists are dead,&nbsp; and we even know what killed them. That was our mission. Game over, man. Game over. Back to the Mitchum.”</strong> He glanced at Widow and winked with a toothy grin, though inwardly he knew that FATHER would relay new orders and have Kilo investigate further.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>18-07-2010, 21:33:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Corporal John Morden</strong><br><br>Fascination.&nbsp; That wasn't something he should have been feeling at this moment.&nbsp; Perhaps it would have been healthier to focus on more human activities, like filling his growling stomach and resting the body that even now protested after the exertion of firing his rifle under the dual effects of adrenaline and combat stims.&nbsp; Maybe he should have been joking like Rome, or thinking about acting upon the sexual urges that didn't exist.&nbsp; The mere thought of it brought a dry smirk to his face.&nbsp; If he recalled correctly, the one word that seemed to be used most frequently to describe his appearance was <em>creepy</em>.&nbsp; Only here, in the middle of an abandoned facility overrun by 'dragons', was he suddenly about as frightening as an Easter bunny.<br><br><strong>"Interesting,"</strong> Reaper let slip, pulling his helmet off and holding it against his abdomen before placing it against the nearest table.&nbsp; Feeling the smooth, round surface.&nbsp; He wondered, briefly, if the creatures laid eggs.&nbsp; <strong>"These <em>dragons.</em>&nbsp; Such murderous things.&nbsp; No bodies left.&nbsp; Mentioned, bones bent <em>outwards</em>.&nbsp; Spider-like creatures attached to the face.&nbsp; Haven't seen those yet.&nbsp; Different part of the life cycle?"</strong><br><br>His voice came out in quick bursts, dry and analytical.&nbsp; He leaned against the table, lost in thought yet staring darkly ahead as always.&nbsp; <strong>"Bursting, from the inside.&nbsp; Seems so old hat.&nbsp; Alien impregnation?&nbsp; Using us like wombs.&nbsp; Developing.&nbsp; I wonder if they used the <em>dogs</em> too."</strong><br><br>Reaper's head snapped up as he addressed the rest of Kilo.&nbsp; <strong>"Something Rosco mentioned.&nbsp; A <em>big</em> one.&nbsp; Perhaps, a leader?&nbsp; A queen.&nbsp; They act like bugs, don't they.&nbsp; Swarming forward, no care for their own safety.&nbsp; All for the good of the hive.&nbsp; Giant, intelligent ants."</strong><br><br>Then, almost as an aside: <strong>"Remarkable..."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>19-07-2010, 21:19:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk <br><br>Well didn't this log change everything, I moved in close and hooked my own computer to the console and forwarded all the information back to FATHER and the higher ups who would have to know they have an infested colony on their hands. Personally, I wanted to destroy this place, from above if at all possible but that was not my call. I took in all the information and looked over at Sarge when he asked for a word.<br>Nodding silently I walked over towards him to an empty side of the town hall, curious on what he had to talk about. One thing was certain, there was no need to go to the control room anymore, unless we wanted to take the corpse of Carthag Vankatov back with us. <br><strong>"What's on your mind Sarge?" </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>19-07-2010, 22:06:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The faint ping of a reading could be heard from all the squad's active motion trackers. Just a single ping, then silence, followed a few seconds later by another soft ping. Trace signs of movement, something was approaching but doing so slowly, and deliberately so as to throw off the sensors. The pings continued ever few seconds another going off, who ever was doing this knew enough to hold still for several seconds after each movement so that the trackers wouldn't be able to pick up on them. <br><br>The pings steadily got louder and louder, it was coming closer, Ping, Ping Ping, still there was silence, not even the smallest sound of something approaching, the seconds ticked bye as the motion trackers continued to ping PING PING PING!!! <br><br>Until finally a woman's voice could be heard from inside the air vent that Mengsk had just left "anyone up there wanna give a woman a hand?" the voice was accompanied by a hand rising out from the vent. The hand was covered in a black body suit that rapidly changed color from dark black to the soft Grey of the town hall's walls. "Don't they teach gentlemen classes in the Corps?" the voice asked "It's not nice to keep a lady waiting" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>19-07-2010, 22:38:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Corporal John Morden</strong><br><br>For a few tense seconds, Reaper was overcome by a very disturbing thought: the possibility that these creatures were even more intelligent than they had already proven themselves to be, and that they had managed to discern in such a short period of time that Kilo was capable of tracking their movement.&nbsp; If they were capable of something like that, there was no telling just how smart the monsters actually were.<br><br>But much to his relief--at least, as relieved as a man like Reaper could get--it was another human being that sought to crawl out from the vent.&nbsp; He fixed the hand with a hard glare (as if he was capable of anything else), and after briefly glancing at the rest of the team he made towards it, gun raised.&nbsp; It was obviously a survivor, but that didn't mean that he could just let his guard down so easily.&nbsp; In situations as horrific as these, survivors could often be as dangerous as the enemy.&nbsp; And there was the lingering possibility that those <em>things</em> could live within a human body...<br><br>Not to mention the optical camouflage.&nbsp; That wasn't exactly issued to the average <em>civilian</em>.&nbsp; All in all, this was all too sudden and all too suspicious.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>"I'll keep a lady waiting until she identifies herself, Ma'am,"</strong> he said bluntly, looking over to Sarge for orders.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>20-07-2010, 06:54:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3315806#msg3315806">Quote from: Shihong on 18-07-2010, 21:33:15</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>Corporal John Morden</strong><br><br>He turned his attention toward Rome and Widow.&nbsp; "I don't care if you two fuck like rabbits when we get home, but right now get your heads back in the game.&nbsp; " A brief distraction was good for relieving some stress, but part of his job was that it remained brief.&nbsp; He didn't want more 'dragons' coming in while those two were doing their particular form of flirting.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>"Interesting,"</strong> Reaper let slip, pulling his helmet off and holding it against his abdomen before placing it against the nearest table.&nbsp; Feeling the smooth, round surface.&nbsp; He wondered, briefly, if the creatures laid eggs.&nbsp; <strong>"These <em>dragons.</em>&nbsp; Such murderous things.&nbsp; No bodies left.&nbsp; Mentioned, bones bent <em>outwards</em>.&nbsp; Spider-like creatures attached to the face.&nbsp; Haven't seen those yet.&nbsp; Different part of the life cycle?"</strong><br><br>His voice came out in quick bursts, dry and analytical.&nbsp; He leaned against the table, lost in thought yet staring darkly ahead as always.&nbsp; <strong>"Bursting, from the inside.&nbsp; Seems so old hat.&nbsp; Alien impregnation?&nbsp; Using us like wombs.&nbsp; Developing.&nbsp; I wonder if they used the <em>dogs</em> too."</strong><br><br>Reaper's head snapped up as he addressed the rest of Kilo.&nbsp; <strong>"Something Rosco mentioned.&nbsp; A <em>big</em> one.&nbsp; Perhaps, a leader?&nbsp; A queen.&nbsp; They act like bugs, don't they.&nbsp; Swarming forward, no care for their own safety.&nbsp; All for the good of the hive.&nbsp; Giant, intelligent ants."</strong><br><br>Then, almost as an aside: <strong>"Remarkable..."</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Reaper was being creepy as usual, but he was bringing up some pretty good points.&nbsp; "We'll see about that.&nbsp; If there are bigger ones down here, the threat may be bigger than we thought.&nbsp; In the meantime, tend to your wounds.&nbsp; The rest of you start splitting shifts." <div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3321501#msg3321501">Quote from: Aiden on 19-07-2010, 21:19:55</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk <br><br><strong>"What's on your mind Sarge?" </strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>The Sgt. motioned the Lt. towards a corner so that they would be able to talk in private.&nbsp; "Sir, I think the log has established what's happened here.&nbsp; I think we can declare 'mission accomplished' and head back," he then paused.&nbsp; O'Shay was not a man who scared easy, but this wasn't just about his own fear.&nbsp; He had a responsibility to keep the squad alive.&nbsp; There had already been 4 close calls, 1 of which had been himself.&nbsp; His 'bad feeling' had kept him alive this long and it had still not subsided after all this time.&nbsp; "Sir, it's my recommendation that we secure what data we can and get off this rock ASAP.&nbsp; You saw the mayor's log.&nbsp; They took out these colonists as efficiently as commandos.&nbsp; &nbsp;These things are smart and fast and they outnumber us many times over.&nbsp; As the Squad NCO, I recommend we call for evac..." he paused for a long moment..."...then nuke this place from orbit.&nbsp; It's the only way to be sure.&nbsp; I think we've lucked out so far that no one's died...but I don't want to push it farther than we have.&nbsp; My gut instincts have kept us alive for a long time and they're saying we need to go now.&nbsp; This isn't worth more lives, either civilian or Marine.&nbsp; <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3321803#msg3321803">Quote from: Urbanzorro on 19-07-2010, 22:06:22</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">The faint ping of a reading could be heard from all the squad's active motion trackers. Just a single ping, then silence, followed a few seconds later by another soft ping. Trace signs of movement, something was approaching but doing so slowly, and deliberately so as to throw off the sensors. The pings continued ever few seconds another going off, who ever was doing this knew enough to hold still for several seconds after each movement so that the trackers wouldn't be able to pick up on them. <br><br>The pings steadily got louder and louder, it was coming closer, Ping, Ping Ping, still there was silence, not even the smallest sound of something approaching, the seconds ticked bye as the motion trackers continued to ping PING PING PING!!! <br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Sarge was about to say more but was interrupted by the ping.&nbsp; He walked back out into the center of the room.&nbsp; He motioned everyone to ready weapons.&nbsp; He unshouldered his pulse rifle and began to follow the signal as best he could.&nbsp; It was coming from very close by.&nbsp; The vent? Under the floor? It was faint and relatively slow though.&nbsp; There was also only one.&nbsp; That was unusual based on the creatures' previous behavior.&nbsp; He remained tensed and ready for action.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3321803#msg3321803">Quote from: Urbanzorro on 19-07-2010, 22:06:22</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Until finally a woman's voice could be heard from inside the air vent that Mengsk had just left "anyone up there wanna give a woman a hand?" the voice was accompanied by a hand rising out from the vent. The hand was covered in a black body suit that rapidly changed color from dark black to the soft Grey of the town hall's walls. "Don't they teach gentlemen classes in the Corps?" the voice asked "It's not nice to keep a lady waiting" </blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>He remained tensed up.&nbsp; The hand SEEMED human.&nbsp; But where the hell did she get such a high grade camouflage suit? Was this whoever killed the creature that had fallen out of the ventilation duct downstairs? Was this a corporate spy? Or perhaps one lucky civilian who had escaped the whole mess? Had there been more survivors? <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3322068#msg3322068">Quote from: Shihong on 19-07-2010, 22:38:32</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>Corporal John Morden</strong><br><br><strong>"I'll keep a lady waiting until she identifies herself, Ma'am,"</strong> he said bluntly, looking over to Sarge for orders.<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Reaper's statement had shook him out of his brief inner monologue.&nbsp; He was looking to him for orders.&nbsp; I motioned for him to follow and keep his weapon trained on the duct.&nbsp; I shouldered my Pulse Rifle and instead drew my Magnum.&nbsp; I was hoping that chivalry wasn't going to get me killed.&nbsp; Then again, a smart commando wouldn't have revealed herself like that.&nbsp; "Okay, ma'am," he said and nodded to Reaper to be ready in case something kicked off.&nbsp; He held his pistol down while extending his free left hand to grasp the unknown female's hand.&nbsp; "Let's help you out of there..." and he pulled up...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>20-07-2010, 08:38:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Rome had just finished with the last of his little smart-ass remarks concerning their mission when he heard the all too familiar <em>ping ping ping ping</em> of their motion trackers. His was currently shut off since he had removed the battery as a safety precaution when he disarmed earlier. He leaped to his feet and quickly drew the large combat knife sheathed in his boot and staring wide-eyed in every direction. <strong>"Where is it?! Where is it?! Where the fuck is it?!"</strong> He spun around the room in search for more of the monsters they'd encountered earlier, his adrenaline already pumping again as his body prepared itself for combat. Cursing himself for neglecting to bring his .357 along for the ride. He noticed as Reaper followed his motion tracker and fell in behind him, following closely as the closed in on the the vent... and the motion signal.<br><br>He heard the woman's voice and his body instantly relaxed some, though he was still ready for whatever or whoever came out of that vent, even if all he had was his knife. He grinned at Reaper's response to the "lady" in the vent and chuckled slightly as he mummled quietly to him. "I'll kill the fuckin' bitch if she so much as looks at me funny."<br><br>He expertly flipped knife in his hand, gripping it in a reverse grip technique (http://www.jayfisher.com/_borders/KnifeGrip2.jpg) and waited as MSgt. O'Shay reached in a hand to heft their mysterious guest from the vent."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Zillah</strong> on <strong>21-07-2010, 01:24:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				PFC Yui 'Zippo' Sakuraba<br><br>The pings were driving Yui absolutely nuts ... and so was the flirting between Rome and Widow. <em>Hi, fucking homicidal weird creatures around here</em>, Yui thought furiously, <em>now is not the time or the place to start getting all cutesy with each other.</em><br><br>There suddenly seemed to be vents everywhere. And in every vent - floor, wall, ceiling, wherever - Yui could swear she saw something moving. She tried hard not to panic ... she knew she was like the annoying little sister anyway, the one who always got in the way. But still ... at every flickering shadow, she quickly pointed the Double Forty at a grating, only to see nothing.<br><br><em>Calm down, girl,</em> Yui thought, <em>don't be paranoid</em>. Then again ... she heard what Reaper was saying about shit like alien impregnation.<br><br><em>Maybe it's better to be paranoid, then. </em><br><br>She saw Rome and Sarge pulling something out of one of the vents. She quickly headed over, ready to barbecue whatever they had found ... and then Zippo sheepishly realized if they'd found something hostile, they'd probably be pulled into the vent by whatever they found. That is, if they weren't just clawed into big thin strips of blood and bone. <br><br>Yui was surprised to see Sarge helping a woman out of the vent.<br><br>"... the hell?" was all she could manage. "A survivor?"<br><br>She looked back at Senjo. "There any visual record of her in the logs you found?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>21-07-2010, 03:45:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"You're welcome to try" the woman said as she took the hand that was offered to her "But I don't really think you'll do that well" once she had pulled herself out of the vent. Looking at the man who had helped her out she flashed him a quick smile "Thanks" she said.&nbsp; Her suit now having completely shifted to a dark gray, her other hand holding her weapon. The woman looked at each of the marines, they seemed a little worse for wear but over all they looked ok. "So...before you ask. I'm Jane, and I used to work for Weyland-Yutani, that is before all this went down and I.....decided to go freelance." Her face grew a bit more serious as she asked "Which one of you big tough marines is in charge? We need to talk a little." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>21-07-2010, 04:38:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>I had two sectors of my attention on the room around me and what was going on. The remaining sectors were directed to continue working at the colony data. There was still much useful information here, for example I had found where Carthag Vankatov was and he was not in this room with us. I had briefly examined the idea that the Mayor could have survived sixteen days alone in the command centre and that she was female but that was not the case.<br><br>Colony records gave his gender. I had been almost certain he was male from the nuances, language and structure of his writing but a search confirmed that 'Jane' was not the writer of the log.<br><br>When Private Sakuraba asked me if there were any records of the woman who had now exited the maintenance duct I looked across at the marine and the subject of her remark. My gaze linked with the visitors and in response to her enquiry I looked across at the Leftenant. The woman saw where I was looking and turned to face him.<br><br>I went back to work, looking for the answer to the flame thrower operator's question alongside the other data I was sifting through.<br><br>Colonists embedded ID tags... attacked at various locations in their crawlers... and at the W-Y facility, at least Dan Whittaker's eight constables were. And... hm. Well, that was curious. I kept hitting keys and bringing up deeper levels of data.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>21-07-2010, 04:51:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote from: Sarge</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"Sir, I think the log has established what's happened here.&nbsp; I think we can declare 'mission accomplished' and head back,"..."Sir, it's my recommendation that we secure what data we can and get off this rock ASAP.&nbsp; You saw the mayor's log.&nbsp; They took out these colonists as efficiently as commandos.&nbsp; &nbsp;These things are smart and fast and they outnumber us many times over.&nbsp; As the Squad NCO, I recommend we call for evac..."..."...then nuke this place from orbit.&nbsp; It's the only way to be sure.&nbsp; I think we've lucked out so far that no one's died...but I don't want to push it farther than we have.&nbsp; My gut instincts have kept us alive for a long time and they're saying we need to go now.&nbsp; This isn't worth more lives, either civilian or Marine."</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Sarge pretty much repeated my thoughts, even the destruction of the Colony but there was always the red tape. <br><strong>"I have relayed all the information we are getting over to FATHER, we have to play the waiting game...it doesn't help that we have reinforcements with orders to meet up with us so we are to stay put for the time being. Trust me sarge, I don't want to be on this colony any less than you or anyone else does...but we don't leave our own kind behi..."</strong><br>I was cut off as a new person asked for assistance and I simply followed to see what the commotion was. A hand from the duct, to think I almost ran into whoever it was when I was up there no less than two minutes ago.<br><br><strong>"No need to conceal who you really are Jane, give us real name ms Doe, so my assistant Senjo over there and check out your story." </strong><br>Was I happy to see a survivor? Yea, it was nice to see someone had escaped that hell but I was not gonna throw them a parade until we had them checked out.<br><strong>"Me and that bear over there are in charge, but we ain't keeping secrets from no one after the shit we have seen so start talking." </strong><br>I pointed out sarge but at this point whatever was about to be said was no where as worse as the shit that we had seen that day, the logs the dick head monsters and worst of all the shitty rations we got sent down with. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>21-07-2010, 05:24:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jane laughed softly at the lead marine's mistake "I hate to disappoint but my name actually happens to be Jane" her voice was filled with amusement as she said this. "If I wanted to keep secrets from you I wouldn't have approached you now would I?" she asked raising her eyebrow. "Anyways...What I told you was true, I used to work for W-Y....well I guess I technically still do but once I get a chance they'll be getting my two weeks notice if you catch my drift. I was the second in command of security for the training.....err research facility on this planet. And up until a few hours ago I thought I was the only non-bug life form left alive on this rock. But I've been proven wrong about that twice already today" <br><br>She paused letting them digest what she'd just said then continued "You guy's were the second time by the way, the first one was...." she paused, considering if they might think she was a crazy bitch for what she was about to say. "Well the first one takes a little explaining. Now judging by your bandages I'm guessing you already ran into the bugs....I don't know much about them, they were above my clearance level. What I do know is that they are dangerous, hostile, and that they're like bees....they have a hive and a queen. But they're not the only aliens out there. The other ones W-Y knows about are" she stopped for a second, chewing her lip trying to find the right words. "We call them the xeno-hunters. Because that's what they do....they hunt just about everything, including human beings, for sport. Best we can tell is that they've been doing it for a very very long time. Our facility was attacked by one of them and that's what caused the xenomorphs to get loose. Right now there is a different one of them on the planet I've already run into him and he's here to clean up the mess. I've been working with him to try and do that and we both decided it was time to let you guys in on the whole thing."<br><br>With her little speech done Jane fell silent, she half expected them to laugh at her like she was crazy, or to attack her. Either way she knew she'd need to be prepared to defend herself. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>21-07-2010, 23:22:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>Sarge just stood there dumbfounded.&nbsp; With his age and experience, he thought he had seen it all.&nbsp; It took him a minute or so to piece together words.&nbsp; <br><br>"Okay so let me get this straight," he started up and began pacing back and forth,"The corporate training facility was REALLY a research laboratory, which you worked security at.&nbsp; On top of that, the company brought in giant, murderous bugs to use as test subjects.&nbsp; As if THAT wasn't insane enough, you're telling me they got let out by ANOTHER killer E.T. who happens to be some kind of big game hunter who also likes to hunt people.&nbsp; Then on top of all this, there's another one just like it who came down here to clean up the mess the first one made.&nbsp; Then FINALLY, the cap on this big mountain of crazy is that you're WORKING with this new one?" <br><br>He stopped and gave one of his characteristic 'What the fuck' looks.&nbsp; The squad had only seen this look once or twice and that was when something happened that even the term 'SNAFU' couldn't cover.&nbsp; <br><br>"You know what, Jane.&nbsp; The most insane part of all this is that I think I believe you.&nbsp; We enter an empty facility, get attacked by giant bugs, while getting stalked by something else from the ducts.&nbsp; I can't think of any other way any of this makes any sense."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Zillah</strong> on <strong>22-07-2010, 02:19:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				PFC Yui 'Zippo' Sakuraba<br><br>Yui heard bits and pieces of what 'Jane' was saying ... a lot of it sailed over her head, especially the parts about the zeeno whosis whatstheirfaces. It was all a bit above her pay grade. It was also the reason she really didn't enjoy talking to Senjo all that much, she didn't mind that Senjo was a synthetic, but the way Senjo talked sometimes ... yeesh. High tech gobbledygook.<br><br>Yui much preferred just making shit burn.<br><br>Fortunately, Sarge was there to translate "tech" into "normal" ... and she didn't like what she was hearing.<br><br>"Okay, so that sounds all sorts of fucked up to me," said Yui. She looked over at 'Jane' - no, Yui still didn't quite believe that was really the woman's name. "How do we kill them?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>22-07-2010, 02:58:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>Two sectors on the room, one in particular monitoring the new arrival, the remainder crunching data.<br><br>I continued crunching.<br><br>I concentrated on the colonists' embedded digital ID tags. These microprocessors served many functions, their final function was to record the time of death and to remain running on minimal battery life for many weeks after death. The system pinpointed their locations but more than that the database of family names and the times of death and transponders that performed similar functions within the cabs of each family crawler allowed me to begin assembling a graphic of the location of each colonist and more importantly how individual family units had been attacked and dispersed and then... gathered together again.<br><br>The locations of some ID tags near the crawlers with times and dates of death of occupants with the distances back to a certain location with the different dates of death there eventually caused me to halt my work and run, quite spontaneously an CSPC; a circular spike path conclusion. A human might equate this to a hunch or a best guess, or a gut feeling but with my brain functions it was more akin to hurling out a wide net covering numerous possibilities and arguments and then analysing the logical mathematical probability of each supposition. I worked the program in a circular sweep, running by every option in the first sweep then discarding each logic point that failed to match the second sweep of known facts and then narrowing further on a third pass to eliminate the remaining logic points that again failed to mesh beyond a chosen probability threshold.<br><br>The human brain does not calculate in this manner, nor does that of an electronic computer, mine does and it can run such sweeps rapidly using discontinuous gap information where a patchy picture of events is known.<br><br>After a few seconds I had a good grasp of the most likely sequence of events. That sequence created, by the very order of its existence and incorporating pieces of information from sources as widely separated as Security Technician Jane and the suppositions of Corporal Reaper, a possible - even probable life cycle and behavioural pattern of the xenomorphs. Jane's analogy that they were like bees was accurate, with one important exception. These creatures performed one function that bees did not. What they did was more akin to African Smoke Wasps, in that they brought their victims, most probably paralysed or sedated back to a hive where it was most likely they were impregnated with larvae which consumed the food in the living host bodies and burst out of them resulting in the internal ruptured rib cages Carthag Vankatov had noted.<br><br><strong>"Leftenant. I have a hypothesis of how these creatures behave and why they took the first twenty-eight victims on day F227. My theory covers the broken bones of the dead Constables noted at the Company Facility and the strange spider-like creature that Doctor Groves attempted to remove from Dan Whittaker's face. Also... I believe my theory covers the missing pet dogs."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>22-07-2010, 03:48:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jane smiled and shrugged her shoulders, "that pretty much sums it up" she said unable to help herself from being amused by the way the man, who she was guessing was the sergeant, had decided to put the situation in a nut shell. "So" she said "Is it safe to assume that if the big guy, that's what I'm calling him by the way, comes through the vent you won't try to blast him full of holes? We could probably use your help...and there's no reason for you guys to die trying to kill it." Her tone wasn't mocking or prideful, she genuinely believed that if the marines did attack they'd get cut to ribbons....sure they might manage to kill the big guy but not before he took some of them down with him. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>22-07-2010, 09:49:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br><strong>"My alliance with whatever this hunter fixer is only as long as it does not clash with my orders. If at any times it interferes or I get the go ahead to evac my squad we are off this rock faster than you can draw that pretty little pistol you have strapped there."</strong><br>I was eying the weapon almost like a man who lusted over a woman would as I spoke. Everything Senjo was gathering went straight to FATHER, I would be more interested if those dick head monsters were not trying to skull fuck us and burst out our chest, I hoped a date like that would at least buy me dinner first. <br><strong>"As long as you can accept those terms, then we can get along just fine....now if mr hunter is done hiding, tell him to show itself so we can shake hands, secure this location and get some shut eye...we had one hell of a long day." </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>22-07-2010, 16:05:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jane nods her head "alright" she says "that's fair enough...and you'd be surprised how fast I can draw." She winked playfully as she said this. "Odds are he's been watching all this so he should be here shortly" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>22-07-2010, 17:52:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br><strong>"Wait."</strong> I stood up and in one quick fluid motion brought my pulse rifle up to my shoulder and aimed it right between 'Jane's' eyes. I made it obvious when I flipped off the safety and applied a small pressure to the trigger.<br><br><strong>"State your full name and Weyland-Yutani ID. Your first name is Jane but your second name, rank and other details are classified on the company records. You say you are second in command of the facility's security? The facility that let loose rabid violent alien lifeforms that murdered over a hundred and fifty colonists. Men, women, children and an unknown number of untagged Company employees but at least fifty security guards. Your position is highly suspicious. We have no case whatever to believe you. Start talking and tell the truth. I am <em>extremely</em> good at detecting when someone is lying to me."</strong><br><br>(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Senjo-05-1.jpg)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>22-07-2010, 23:09:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br><strong>"What the fuck?! You can't be serious, Caesar!"</strong> Rome was extremely suspicious of this mysterious "Jane" and didn't trust her any farther than he could throw her. The fact that the Lieutenant seemingly did trust her and what she was telling them didn't sit well with him at all and he was very vocal in expressing his disgust. <strong>"Please tell me you're not just buying her bullshit story at face value without any kind of checks... Lieutenant."</strong> His voice was laced with a dangerous tone bordering insubordination. <strong>"This crazy bitch is crawling through the air ducts like a spider in a building filled with man eating dickheads that nearly kicked *OUR* asses and she come off with this crazy assed, bullshit story... and you're just gonna swallow it hook, line and sinker?"</strong> <br><br>He stood there, his nostrils flaring as he grew more and more agitated at the situation in which he currently found himself. He snapped his head towards Senjo and pointed at her dramatically. <strong>"I'm with Senjo..."</strong> He pointed his knife at "Jane", his eyes glaring and large. <strong>"She's stacking the shit pretty high, you ask me."</strong> Now he was just getting pissed. <strong>"Well I'm not buying her load of shit."</strong> He stomped over to the woman, lifting his knife in a blur of motion, pressing the tip upwards and dimpling the skin under her chin. <strong>"Nice to meet you .... <em>'Jane'</em>. I'm the fuckin' Easter Bunny. Now cut the shit. Who the fuck are you?"</strong> 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>22-07-2010, 23:15:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br><strong>"Who said I believed her marine?"</strong><br>I stood stoically calm between the emotional outburst and storms consuming my unit, they were on the edge and I was going to let them work out the tension as they saw fit.<br><strong>"The enemy of those dick-heads as you call them, is a friend...as long as they are useful. I am sure this hunter and this "jane""</strong> I emphasized to assure them that I did not trust her myself.<br><strong>"Will be better fighting along side us then having to fight on two fronts." </strong><br>If things got really out of line I would intervene but for now I watched to see how "jane" would answer both to Rome and Senjo. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Zillah</strong> on <strong>23-07-2010, 02:51:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				PFC Yui 'Zippo' Sakuraba<br><br><em>Oh, boy</em>, Yui thought. Watching Rome going off on this 'Jane' scientist-type person made Yui feel a little better, but not much. <em>If she's telling the truth, we're in deep shit. If she's <strong>not</strong> telling the truth ... then that means she's probably hiding something even <strong>worse</strong>. Which means we're in even deeper shit.</em><br><br><em>Great ...</em><br><br>Yui started moving slowly around the perimeter of the room ... checking all entrances and exits. There was something about the woman appearing the way she did that Yui didn't like. Like she wanted to be found. Which, if a bunch of homicidal bugs were trying to kill her, Yui supposed was pretty reasonable, but ...<br><br>But what if it was a distraction? The woman just talking, keeping all eyes focused on her and away from everything else.<br><br>Yui continued to move around, glancing down at her motion tracker when her eyes weren't darting around the room.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Paladin</strong> on <strong>23-07-2010, 04:16:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3339281#msg3339281">Quote from: Corvus on 22-07-2010, 23:09:06</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br><strong>"What the fuck?! You can't be serious, Caesar!"</strong> Rome was extremely suspicious of this mysterious "Jane" and didn't trust her any farther than he could throw her. The fact that the Lieutenant seemingly did trust her and what she was telling them didn't sit well with him at all and he was very vocal in expressing his disgust. <strong>"Please tell me you're not just buying her bullshit story at face value without any kind of checks... Lieutenant."</strong> His voice was laced with a dangerous tone bordering insubordination. <strong>"This crazy bitch is crawling through the air ducts like a spider in a building filled with man eating dickheads that nearly kicked *OUR* asses and she come off with this crazy assed, bullshit story... and you're just gonna swallow it hook, line and sinker?"</strong> <br><br>He stood there, his nostrils flaring as he grew more and more agitated at the situation in which he currently found himself. He snapped his head towards Senjo and pointed at her dramatically. <strong>"I'm with Senjo..."</strong> He pointed his knife at "Jane", his eyes glaring and large. <strong>"She's stacking the shit pretty high, you ask me."</strong> Now he was just getting pissed. <strong>"Well I'm not buying her load of shit."</strong> He stomped over to the woman, lifting his knife in a blur of motion, pressing the tip upwards and dimpling the skin under her chin. <strong>"Nice to meet you .... <em>'Jane'</em>. I'm the fuckin' Easter Bunny. Now cut the shit. Who the fuck are you?"</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>As the knife slid up under the woman's chin, 3 red dots apeard from the shadow directly next to the vent and tracked up to center on his torso, and Mengsk's voice came from the same place word for word as a "shink" sound was also heard. "Will be better fighting along side us then having to fight on two fronts." A second set of tri dot lasers apeared on the second biggest threat and opposer... Senjo. A cloaking field then dropped in a crackle of electricity and standing there was an 8 foot tall silent killer.<br><br>(http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o275/Paladin2436/n2247842043_8856.jpg)<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>23-07-2010, 04:29:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>With a draw speed that would make a samurai jealous, I pressed the end of my shotgun into the alien's armpit where he held out his arm. Everyone knew the weakest part of the armor was always at the joints and areas that required the most movement.<br><strong>"Rome, knife down. All of you... drop the weapons...if this fucking giant can't speak English, you better translate Jane."</strong><br>I hissed my words at all of them, finally pulling the officer card out.<br><strong>"Now Marine, that is a fucking order!" </strong><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>23-07-2010, 04:48:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>At the appearance of this bizarre creature; it's netting cover, the small skulls hung from a bandolier, the braided... material. I concluded it was hair, and the tribal, even primitive aura around it I kept my position. It wore some form of armoured helmet that gave it the appearance of a large bird or reptile.<br><br>The creature wore a pair of articulated weapons, no larger than pistols on it's shoulders. The two weapons gave out three point laser targeters. The creature must have a powered suit, computer controlled since the shoulder guns swung without apparent means of command except gestures from the head.<br><br>At the Leftenant's order I lowered my rifle, still holding it forwards and with the stock to my shoulder, but pointing down. I slid the safety on.<br><br>The Leftenant had just given the initiative to the two strangers.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>23-07-2010, 04:50:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>As the hunter alien decloaked, he instinctively pulled for his magnum and drew it on the alien.&nbsp; At this range and with that armor, it was his best shot.&nbsp; I got to meet not <br><br>"So our 'friend' makes his appearance...," he quipped.&nbsp; "...do what the LT says, all of you." <br><br>He lowered his magnum and holstered it.&nbsp; "Do you have a name?" he asked the Alien.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>24-07-2010, 02:33:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jane stepped back as the marines lowered their weapons. She eyed the lieutenant carefully. The guy seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, hopefully this wouldn't turn into a blood bath. She looked over at the xeno-hunter. Nodding her head to it, silently hoping it would understand and put down it's weapons. In truth Jane hadn't yet decided which side she'd be shooting at if this went bad and didn't want to be forced to. "Lets all calm down." she said "the xenomorphs haven't hit any of us in a while....we all know that can't last much longer. And best we can tell his kind can understand English...and every other human language." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Paladin</strong> on <strong>24-07-2010, 03:32:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3341001#msg3341001">Quote from: Aiden on 23-07-2010, 04:29:50</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>With a draw speed that would make a samurai jealous, I pressed the end of my shotgun into the alien's armpit where he held out his arm. Everyone knew the weakest part of the armor was always at the joints and areas that required the most movement.<br><strong>"Rome, knife down. All of you... drop the weapons...if this fucking giant can't speak English, you better translate Jane."</strong><br>I hissed my words at all of them, finally pulling the officer card out.<br><strong>"Now Marine, that is a fucking order!" </strong><br><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>The big alien looked at the man who suddenly had a promitive slug thrower preseed up inder his arm and for a scond thought about removing the ooman's head with a quick backswipe, but thought better of it. If the ooman was killed there would have been one less warrior to fight the Kanide Amheda.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3341131#msg3341131">Quote from: CmdrRenegade on 23-07-2010, 04:50:06</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>As the hunter alien decloaked, he instinctively pulled for his magnum and drew it on the alien.&nbsp; At this range and with that armor, it was his best shot.&nbsp; I got to meet not <br><br>"So our 'friend' makes his appearance...," he quipped.&nbsp; "...do what the LT says, all of you." <br><br>He lowered his magnum and holstered it.&nbsp; "Do you have a name?" he asked the Alien.&nbsp; <br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>The hunter looked at the man that spoke and tilted its head as if in query. "Yes." It simply said. Its voice was rough and gutteral. When the ooman jane nodded, the wrist blades were retracted and the tri dot lasers disapeared as the shoulder plasma casters powered down and settled back into inactive position. Then slowly it stepped to the side away from the gun that was jammed into it and over next to the ooman woman jane.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>24-07-2010, 07:39:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl Roman "Rome" Benke</strong><br><br>Rome stood with an angry grimace on his face, his knife pressed against the underside of "Jane's" chin when he noticed something red drift swiftly past his vision and settle on his chest. He glanced down quickly at the dots on his chest and looked back up in time to see an eight foot nightmare shimmer into view from thin air. The creature was humanoid in appearance and stood nearly 2 feet taller than Rome. Needless to say, he was an intimidating sight to behold.<br><br>Lieutenant Mengsk stuck his shotgun into the creature's armpit and then ordered Rome to drop his knife. He stubbornly held his blade pressed to "Jane's" chin until the Lieutenant hissed his order at him. <div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3341001#msg3341001">Quote from: Aiden on 23-07-2010, 04:29:50</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"Now Marine, that is a fucking order!"</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Reluctantly and with much emotion, Rome snapped his knife away and turned his back to everyone as he stormed back to the bench were he had set his gear. He mumbled inaudible curses under his breath as he began snatching his gear up and donning his armor.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>24-07-2010, 13:24:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>The tension was still thick, but at least we were not pointing guns, holding knives and fucking lasers at one another. As the weapons went down I was the last to lower my gun, my shotgun following the alien life form until everything was clear. Mounting the slug launcher back on my shoulder I dug into a pocket for a cigarette, lighting it and taking a deep drag to calm my nerves. <br><strong>"So now that we are all friends...ok Jane, spotlights on you doll."</strong><br><br>I moved over to the console and checked my computer, looking for updates from FATHER and most importantly logging everything that was happening. A second alien life form and the true works of the Weyland-Yutani higher ups. My eyes stayed on both Jane and the Hunter as I relayed the information, keeping an eye on the tension in case I had to break them all up once more. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Zillah</strong> on <strong>24-07-2010, 15:13:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				PFC Yui 'Zippo' Sakuraba<br><br>When Yui saw the big nasty critter decloak, she practically jumped out of her skin.<br><br><em>Holy fuck,</em> she thought. Immediately, she pointed the Double Forty at it, getting the weapon primed. The sweet smell of burning fuel started to waft from the nozzle of the weapon. <em>I don't what what the hell this thing is, but he's about to be barbecue,</em> she thought. She glanced down at her tracker. <em>And that thing was here the whole time ... What. The. Hell.</em> <br><br>She started to look around the room. <em>How many others of these things are there, then?</em><br><br>Yui saw weapons flying around, heard threats being made, and then the most important words were spoken ... even though she didn't agree with them. <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3341001#msg3341001">Quote from: Aiden on 23-07-2010, 04:29:50</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"Rome, knife down. All of you... drop the weapons...if this fucking giant can't speak English, you better translate Jane."</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Yui clicked off the safety on the flamethrower. She looked over nervously at the giant creature ... and then at 'Jane'. She decided that she hated 'Jane' ... the scientist clearly knew more than she was letting on, as far as Yui was concerned. Damn corporate types ... she thought. She backed away from the new zeeno-whatever giant dude of death and moved closer to Senjo ... she thought if anyone could figure out what was really going on, it would probably be the synthetic.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>24-07-2010, 18:33:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jane looked the Lieutenant right in the eyes "what would you like to know?" she asked "I've told you just about everything I can, they don't really give security guards much info other than what we need to know" turning her attention to the synthetic she looked it right in the eyes and said "As for my last name it's Grason, don't bother looking for it, or for my ID number. None of the personnel at the facility other than the lowest ranking ones had ID numbers. W-Y wanted to be able to get rid of us without anyone looking they thought we would disclose any secrets. And yes the facility that was holding the xenomorphs, though we didn't let them loose on anyone. They broke free...and just so you know the next time you point that rifle at me you'll regret it." <br><br>Jane had never liked synthetics....the damn things couldn't be trusted in her opinion. They always seemed to have some big corporation pulling their strings....not that it was there fault. If you were programed to do something you didn't really have a choice. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>25-07-2010, 01:36:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br><strong>"Well for one I am pretty damn sure you ain't some bitch who took the weekend course and got a guard card at your local rec center. You may not be marine, but you must have a history in some special ops/forces. Also you said you talk to this big motherfucker here I want to know how he didn't tear your ass apart I dount he face booked your ass...unless you WY employers are hiding a hell of a lot more than wood and auto shops."</strong><br><br>My voice was calm, my questions dictated clearly.<br><br><strong>"I want to know what is going on at the other lab, how many of those dick heads you had originally and how the motherfuckers reproduce. How many are we dealing with approximately. I get what you are saying about their society. But I don't want to be walking into another room, we had 6 of those things...I want to know their attack patterns and if you have a map of that other lab I want it uploaded onto my computer asap for Senjo to analyze." </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Paladin</strong> on <strong>25-07-2010, 02:01:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The big alien just stood there behind the ooman named Jane, as he watched the ooman's squabble amongst each other. Were he younger he would gladly hunt any of these ooman's. Their skulls would make most satisfying and honorable trophies on his wall. However he wasn’t on hunt this time. There would be no trophies. Walking over to a bench he sat down, the ooman made material creaking under his weight. He slid out his wrist blades and twitching a mandible inside his helmet activated one of the targeting lasers and played it over the twin blades until it grew red hot. Then he calmly did the same with the other set of blades.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>26-07-2010, 16:41:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jane shrugged "and I want a transport off this rock, with a full payed vacation on some tropic colony where the drinks are free....but life sucks that way...I really can't answer most of your questions but I will do my best to answer those that I can. As for why he didn't kill me that's something I don't know. We don't know much about his kind other than the fact that they are very advanced and like to kill things. I don't know the original numbers of the xenomorphs, and I sure as hell don't know how they re-produce. All I know is the things that the Security Chief decided I needed to know. As for their attack patterns...they prefer to swarm their targets with each individual member of their group being unimportant to the achievement of their goal. They are highly intelligent, they know how to set traps, how to use each other as bait, they don't know fear, or greed, or pain, they work as a team, the understand how to strike at the strongest targets first, they can be sneaky when they want to....the list goes on...they are basically the perfect natural predators...As for a map, I don't have it. At least not with me, I know my way around the facility and have most of the areas I had access to memorized. I can also get access to a map when we are inside from any of the terminals but as you can see I didn't bring a computer with me...so no map now." she sighed a bit as she finished her statement. Knowing that all these things wouldn't really be welcome as 'good news.' 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Zillah</strong> on <strong>27-07-2010, 02:19:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				PFC Yui 'Zippo' Sakuraba<br><br>Yui licked her lips nervously as 'Jane' spilled her story. <em>Not good, not good, not good ... even worse</em>, thought Yui, as she made a mental checklist of everything the woman was saying.&nbsp; She knew she hated scientists before, but she really <strong>hated </strong>them now. <em>Only a bunch of know-it-all eggheads would be arrogant enough to throw that many homicidal zeeno-critters in the same place and think nothing bad would happen ...</em><br><br>She looked over her shoulder at the great big critter, with the giant knives sticking out of its forearm. The thing gave Yui the creeps. It just stood their impassively, silently surveying the room. But Yui got the distinct feeling if the big guy wanted them all dead, they'd be smears of tattered flesh and blood on the floor before they had time to blink.<br><br>Yui looked back at 'Jane'.<br><br>"You don't have access to a map? Fine," Yui snapped at her. "Draw it for us, then. Senjo will figure out things from there. I don't want us to be totally hosed if you suddenly decide to leave us."<br><br>"And you're a scientist ... you smarties always have theories. So what's your theory as to why you got to live?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>27-07-2010, 03:09:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jane looked at the woman who had just spoken "first off....what part of <strong>security guard</strong> means scientist?" she asked her tone one she would use when talking to a child who is to dense to learn the simplest lesson. "and second off you want me to draw a map of an 8 story building from memory? Leaving out the fact that there were a ton of rooms that I wasn't even classified to know about...." she shook her head "I'm alive right now because I've been lucky...I made it out of the facility because I was lucky, and my luck will probably run out and I'll either get wasted by the xenomorphs or one of you jarheads." she shook her head "I'll draw your map for you but I can't guarantee that what they told me was a lunch room doesn't turn out to be the xenomorph nest" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>27-07-2010, 04:03:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>Nothing was adding up. I never get angry with people and I never dislike them, such emotional handles have no meaning for me. I do however work well with people who I have experience of. When humans work with me for extended periods I assemble a library of their responses and reactions, their behaviours until I feel able to predict within certain parameters their likely response. I attune my own responses against these and work well with them, providing their responses are rational and legal and allow me to work alongside them within my own company-installed command parameters and limitations. I could experience the behaviours of a mass murderer for a year but that would not result in me condoning or participating in his crimes.<br><br>I also respond within logical parameters when I first meet people. My training, conditioning and inherent social behaviours result in my personality coming across as neutral but acceptable. Cold, perhaps distant but not unfriendly.<br><br>No, I do not dislike people, but the Grason woman was making little sense. I detected heightened emotions over a range of negativities and information that she gave that was inconsistent. The woman was not telling the truth.<br><br>I stood away from the desk and my interrupted work and moved to stand in front of the woman where I could see her eyes and body language more clearly. I held my pulse rifle in my right hand, loosely at my side.<br><br><strong>"I would not consider the second in command of the security at a highly sensitive facility where dangerous alien life-forms are being contained and who has authority over a team of fifty personnel to come under the heading of 'Security Guard'. A security guard is a grunt, a person without authority. Typical examples can be found dead at your facility as we speak. Without company records or ID it is apparent you are no security guard Ms Grason, but someone more important, so please refrain from lying to us. You know that facility inside out I would hazard. For one it does not have eight stories but three. Carthag Vankatov, late mayor of this colony visited it and recorded his findings. The records he left behind show that he was an intelligent and observant man. I would credit him with being able to count the storeys of a structure, unless more than half of it is sub-surface."</strong><br><br><strong>"You worked there for months. Your job was to secure the facility. Your job was to respond to threats, external and internal and move the men under your command to positions in time of emergency where they could most effectively do their jobs. Such a person, second in command of a team of that nature cannot work in a facility the layout of which she is ignorant. You know the inside of that structure Ms Grason."</strong> I held out a sheet of flexcard and a stylus. <strong>"Please draw it. All of it. I may advise you check your memory well, it is quite possible that you will be leading us in there."</strong><br><br><strong>"I find it highly unlikely that during the present incident during which time we know that you witnessed the creatures attacks and behaviours, that you did not witness other events. There are notes in the log of Mayor Vankatov that describe several scenarios and events from which I have been able, in the last half hour, to draw up a theory of the life cycle of these creatures. Mayor Vantakov did not spend months in a facility where the creatures were being contained and examined. You did. I find it highly implausible that you remain ignorant of their behaviours beyond their intelligence and aggressive nature."</strong><br><br><strong>"You are aggressive and agitated when questioned. Your story of a solo escape when a squad of marines is needed to stop their attacks and fifty of your men died is not plausible. Your story of meeting your associate is thinner than this sheet."</strong> I held out the flexcard.<br><br><strong>"I believe it is in this military units primary interest to request that you hand over your weapons, take a seat - please - and speak the truth. I am currently unable to construct a scenario in which we should trust much of what you say."</strong><br><br>I held out my left hand. <strong>"Please give me your gun and any other weapons you have."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>27-07-2010, 08:18:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>Sarge smirked a bit at the xeno hunter's quizzical yes.&nbsp; He had taken the question literally.&nbsp; He was going to ask the hunter correctly when the argument broke out again.&nbsp; He listened to the argument with a certain bit of detachment.&nbsp; Most of what she was saying had made sense.&nbsp; The aliens were confirmed to not be indigenous.&nbsp; They were evolved to be perfect predators.&nbsp; Also, the hunter alien had in fact been stalking them as far as he could tell.&nbsp; Those serrated blades he unsheathed were a good match at a glance to the wound from the alien that fell out of the duct.&nbsp; <br><br>Her story actually DID make alot of sense, but Senjo was right.&nbsp; She was too well armed and trained for a donut-eating security guard.&nbsp; She had weapons and armor that were high tech and customized.&nbsp; She may have actually been a security guard, but that may not be all she was.&nbsp; <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3362563#msg3362563">Quote from: Haibane on 27-07-2010, 04:03:11</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">SENJO<br><br><strong>"Please give me your gun and any other weapons you have."</strong><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"Hold on, Senjo," Sarge said and stepped between the two.&nbsp; "Like I said before her story actually does make sense.&nbsp; Her story confirms alot of what we already know.&nbsp; With the facts, it's the only thing that makes sense right now.&nbsp; Her story confirms what we know about these shitheads.&nbsp; Also, I've seen enough wounds to know that the corpse that fell out of the ducts was his handiwork," he said and motioned toward the hunter," so I do believe your story." <br><br>"But..." he paused, " it's what you haven't told us that's bothering me.&nbsp; A high tech camo suit,custom weapons, the strength and flexibility to crawl through ducts like that...Hell, even the fact you survived this long even before he came along," He smirked and said, "Sorry, hun, I've been around the block enough times to know that no mere security guard, assistant chief or no, has all of that."<br><br>He folded his arms and regarded her.&nbsp; "And also, like Senjo said, you've been both evasive and hostile.&nbsp; If I was a betting man, I'd say you're a corporate spy like in the old movies.&nbsp; You were paid by a rival to get a job at Weyland-Yutani to steal their secrets.&nbsp; Crazy, huh? Now maybe, I'm just an old grunt with a little too much imagination but I've been around long enough to see there's more to your story than you're telling."<br><br>He unfolded his arms and looked straight at her, "Listen, I don't give a shit who you actually work for.&nbsp; I don't give two shits about the suits at Weyland-Yutani either.&nbsp; I was here for the colonists and the poor bastards are all dead.&nbsp; The company can eat shit and die for all I care.&nbsp; The only thing I need to know is that you're not gonna get my people and I killed to protect whatever you're hiding.&nbsp; Now, will you level with us so hopefully we can get off this rock alive?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>27-07-2010, 19:42:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jane sighed a bit as the Sargent spoke, she had been about to tell Senjo to come and take her weapons if she wanted them so bad. Something about her just rubbed Jane the wrong way. As soon as the Sargent had said what he had to she cleared her throat and began to speak. "I'm not a corporate spy, or some high level executive. What I am is a woman who is very skilled at fighting and who was hired by Weyland-Yutani because the wanted someone who knew their way around a battle at the facility. That's the same reason they hired Magby.....the facility's security chief. I was given this suit because it's a prototype that needs testing and I was willing to use it. I don't know much about the xenomorphs because anyone other than the research team who did know a lot about them tended to go on a vacation and never come back if you catch my meaning. I know what I was told by Mr. Magby, and that was only things that would pertain to fighting them if they ever broke out. And those things were that they were smart and deadly and worked in packs.The building is 8 stories tall though most of it is underground....do you really think that Weyland-Yutani would build a secret facility only to let the mayor of a colony see it all? He saw what they wanted him to see. A small facility that was just big enough to be a training building. Not the super complex that the research facility actually is." <br><br>She then looked at Senjo "as for my weapons I'm not about to give them to you, if you want them then you're free to try and take them but I will defend myself....and my story may not be logical but that doesn't change the truth of it. If you can't deal with the fact that my survival so far has just been what amounts to a cosmic stroke of luck then you'd best stop contemplating it because....honey that's all you're going to find...now are we going to keep this interrogation up longer or do we have better things to do?"&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>28-07-2010, 20:47:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br><strong>"I suggest you all rest up, get in a meal and make sure your weapons are clean and ready. We are waiting for reinforcements then we are going to move on. Orders still stand from FATHER and until they say we are clear to go home...then you all better get along. Now...I am going to get some shut eye...if ya'll keep yapping and disturb me...I am going to make it an order."</strong><br><br><strong>"Senjo set up your guns by the door and one by that vent, if these two got in through there then lets not get caught with our pants down."</strong><br>I moved back to my gear and took a seat against the wall, my shot gun laying across my lap as I eyed everyone in the room. Like hell I trusted Jane and the hunter but it was obvious we were not going to get anything out of them. Unless Kilo was in any immediate danger, all I could do was follow orders. I might divert from our mission to go check up on the transport, but I needed second squad to make contact with us first. Choking down a new pouch of beef and potato stew aka shit, I closed my eyes and rested what amount I could. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Haibane</strong> on <strong>28-07-2010, 21:50:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				SENJO<br><br>Once the Leftenant had moved away from the centre of the group I went over and sat beside him. Turning my face away from both the new arrivals in case lip-reading was a skill either possessed, I spoke in a low tone that only he would hear.<br><br><strong>"Sir. I am unable to deploy the Sentry Guns. Ms Grason does not carry a Colonial Marine IFF tag. The UA-571C's will identify her as hostile. I am suspicious of her and now her presence compromises the ability of Kilo Platoon to defend itself. My recommendation is that we can not continue our operation with civilians in the unit. She should be placed under military guard and removed off planet to the cells of the Mitchum. The only other option I can think of is that we leave her here, but I do not think she can and should operate with us. Sir, we are conducting a military operation here, we are not equipped to carry passengers."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>29-07-2010, 03:35:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Awkwardly, Jennifer lowered her weapon and eased down her stance, her M41A1 still held up a the ready near her chest and pressed firmly into her shoulder. She was prepared to fight, if necessary, to defend her squad from the intruders, some corporate bitch with fancy color-blend camouflage technology. Jennifer backed away from the scene bound to unfold, stepping around Rome and sitting on the opposite side of the room, her weapon still up and ready as she looked down to her motion tracker. Reading the display, and seeing very little movement on it, nothing aside from the commotions brewing up in the crowd near her, Jennifer kept her eyes on the trackers screen, sweeping it from side to side slowly, hoping to not catch a single thing.<br><br>In the back of her mind, Jennifer was probing the possibility of the given story by the security woman from the Company, and the implications it meant for Kilo's mission. This was a wrench in the cogs they did not need, shifty corporate rent-a-cops going around interfering with a military mission, a military mission destined to be thrown to the gutter, given that it was likely all the colonists were dead or worse. If anything were worse than the current situation, Jennifer would love to be there and see it. Things got complicated quick, that was a given fact associated with combat missions, the situation could get out of control in seconds and most people would be left wondering what had happened.<br><br>But Kilo platoon was a Marine platoon, not some shit-canned backwards outfit of militia members thinking they were elite. Bravado begone, Jennifer knew that units typical of Kilo were the best to be found, and that fact alone had her questioning why everyone was sitting around and moaning about recent events, instead of either doing away with the new problem, or ignoring the hell out of it, completing the mission and going home. The colonists were likely dead, Kilo should search around a bit more maybe, get some concrete intelligence to support that theory, but that was the extent of their operations here. <br><br>Continuing the scan with her tracker, Jennifer looked up as the Lt and Senjo were talking, and not one to listen in, she went back to her tracker, bringing her feet up off the floor and leaning back against the wall, her hand still holding the trigger grip of her rifle, her index finger lovingly stroking the trigger guard as she frequently glanced up at the intruder, making no attempt to hide her displeasure nor her distrust, but obviously not openly hostile. The woman was obviously more than a security guard, Jennifer had met some Company security guards and most of them were none-too-bright, and the rest were Military washouts who couldn't hack it in an environment of top key professionals. If something was going to go down with this woman, Jennifer guessed, it was going to happen soon. If it came to that, Jennifer was ready, but above all else she wanted to do the job and get the hell out of dodge.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>01-08-2010, 22:57:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk <br></strong><br><br>I opened my eyes and looked over at Senjo, then over to Jane.<br><strong>"Hey Jane...don't get in front of the guns. Sentries won't be able to flag you as a neutral."</strong><br>Turning over to Senjo, I smirked.<br><strong>"Problem solved, good thing those things don't swivel a full 360 degrees. Once I can get her off this rock along with us, I will do so marine. Intel has been slow from FATHER and the Mitchum, all I know is we have to wait for out back up to make contact. Once our orders are in, trust me, I won't be holding out on you. I ain't no scientist, no fucking researcher...I want off this rock so I can put in for some hazard pay for all of us...after the shit we just ran into. Anything else?"</strong><br>My attention was held on the synthetic a moment longer before my stoic countenance turned to face in the direction I was looking towards earlier, the entry ways into the facility. My eyes drifted half closed, still alert in case out conversation was not over. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Writersblockade</strong> on <strong>01-08-2010, 23:09:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gizmo had made it into the Town Hall with everyone else. Before he even took the time to give himself a well-deserved break, he was already finding power outlets to charge his pack computer’s battery, along with the core unit he still had on him. As the outlets were near the bench, he couldn’t help but overhear the…banter, for lack of a dirtier word, between Widow and Rome. He shook his head as he worked, not understanding how people could come from a life-or-death struggle, and still want to get their rocks off.<br><br>‘Different strokes’ he thought, before making his way to the terminal. He’d wanted to get his hands on some of the data it might contain, but saw Senjo had the same idea, as well as the means to put that idea into motion. Slightly dashed, Gizmo gave her some space, but couldn’t help but notice how the screens whirled in and out of her gaze. He self consciously looked at his own hand, for a moment, before staring again at her progress. The “what” of what she was doing wasn’t the hard part. He understood that like Reaper understands stripping down a rifle, or Rome stripping down a woman, for that matter. It was something deeply embedded into him, that understanding…which made it sting so much worse to know that just what he’s witnessed here would have taken him, with luck on his side, a few hours.<br><br>He turned to walk away, before hearing Senjo speak. Turning to the <em>“Here, Sir”</em>, he was more than a little curious about what was found during her search. Absently, he reached into his large cargo pocket for a brick. Bricks were what he affectionately called these particular MREs in horse-choking bar form. For the techie who absolutely needed nutrition without wanting to leave the glow of their computer, accept no substitute. He bit into the horrible synthamel, and grinded the wad of fake caramel around his mouth before swallowing. He immediately followed this up with a sip from his bladder. For as long as he could remember, he had always needed the first bite to be washed down with something. Probably because it was a shock to his system.<br><br>The blueprints would be handy, and Gizmo politely asked Senjo to upload the prints to his computer. He was sure he could find it later, but somehow doubted it would be with such…expediency. He took another bite of the brick, and gave Caesar a quizzical look <em>”Sir…with all due respect, you’re planning to go into ducts that we’ve already seen one of the…things come down from. Their very form gives them an advantage that we can’t hope to counter in such a tight environment. Could we have a little time to search for another viable option?”</em> Without realizing it, Gizmo had stood at attention while addressing Caesar, and couldn’t help but notice that his knees were still trying to shake despite it. He was staring in Caesar’s direction, but not at the man. He felt the prickly sensation to his skin that precipitated sweat, but none came. It was one of the few times his will beat out his body. <br><br>Later, he listened intently to Senjo recount the last days of the colony. His stomach fought the consumed brick and water with the knowledge that so many people had met their ends in such a horrible way. His hand moved to his chest where his necklace was, and he could almost smell the jungle again. It was happening all over again, he was sure of it. It may not have been the same enemy, but the circumstances were déjà vu all over again. He moved to the side to lean against the wall hoping his natural low profile would make his actions undetected by the rest of the group. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he concentrated on just breathing deeply in and out. The smell of the jungle was replaced by stale air and hard-worked marines, and he gave a small thanks for that favor. <br><br>Jane’s arrival didn’t intrigue him as much as her suit did. It was marvelous! Take away the whole “she’s obviously lying” part of her, and he would have asked to inspect the suit more closely. Did it bend light? Did it take a snapshot of their surroundings, and then mimic it? Just what in the hell was going on with that thing? He would have to try and speak to her on it, though he didn’t think he’d get much out of her. As he held his gun at the ready, he did what he usually does. Let the big kids fight, and keep his back to the wall.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>02-08-2010, 19:44:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The hours passed as Jane and 1st Squad waited for the arrival of 2nd Squad. The sun set and night befell LV-1875. The sounds of the creatures crawling about the outer walls could be easily heard. Occasionally one of their shrieks pierced the air, but no attack came. For what ever reason the creatures were biding their time. Perhaps waiting for the marines to move to a less defensible position or simply having lost interest in them for other prey. <br><br><br>As the next day dawned it was yet even more hours before 1st Squad's head sets began to sound off with received transmissions. "Repeat, This is 5th Regiment, Charlie Company,&nbsp; Kilo Platoon, 2nd Squad hailing 1st Squad. We have made planet fall and have established a secure LZ at our objective. If there is anyone out there please respond. Repeat, this is...."<br><br><br>The signal repeated over and over. It was obviously a recording that 2nd Squad was broadcasting over the standard military band in the hopes of establishing contact with 1st Squad. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>02-08-2010, 20:19:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>O'Shay had been dozing through much of the night.&nbsp; He couldn't do much else as he was well aware that the aliens were still out there.&nbsp; Still, he had trained himself to at least get some rest no matter what.&nbsp; Then, he snorted awake as 2nd Squad's signal came up and began to repeat.&nbsp; "2nd Squad, this is Sgt. O'Shay.&nbsp; What is your location, over?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>03-08-2010, 06:36:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The voice responded, crisp and clear in Sarge's earpiece, as well as the earpieces of the other marines. "I read you Sargent, this is Captain Henson 2nd Squad. We are currently at the updated objective point. Are you in command of your Squad? What is your Squad's combat viability status? Where is your squad leader?" the man's voice wasn't accusatory, it was matter of fact. He was simply ask for necessary information and didn't want to waste time dicking around. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>03-08-2010, 07:16:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk </strong><br><br>I rose out of my half-slumber surprisingly refresh, responding immediately and interrupting the sergeant as I moved to check my computer in case I was given any new information during my shut eye. <br><strong>"On the com with you captain, we are at...(Gives coordinates, not sure which to use on this rock). All Kilo is green + 1 hell of a rent-a-cop. You boys need a pick up? Are you aware of what we are dealing with?" </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>03-08-2010, 16:01:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I've read your reports and feel I've got a solid idea of what the enemy is capable of" Henson said his voice confident. "I've been unable to establish contact with your dropship, at this time we are assuming that it has been lost. I have my squad's dropship currently en-route&nbsp; to pick you up. We will rendezvous at my current location and I will update you on our current mission objectives. I'd appreciate it if you had your squad ready for a quick lift off. The sooner we get you in the air and get our squads consolidated the better. Any questions Lieutenant?"&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>04-08-2010, 21:06:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk</strong><br><br><strong>"Tell your pick-up to circle the curb, we will make sure we clear a safe landing, over." </strong><br>I rose to my feet and strapped on my gear, holding my helmet in hand. Clicking off the radio, I spoke manually to everyone in the room.<br><strong>"Rise and shine grunts, I want you ready in 5. We got a hot date tonight!" </strong><br>I moved to check my computer, locking the coordinates of the second squad, in the event the drop ship never arrived I had to be ready to walk the squad wherever they are. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>04-08-2010, 23:07:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center"><strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Benke</strong></div><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i133.photobucket.com/albums/q61/mrgerty/Characters/TERRYCREWS.jpg)</div> <strong>R</strong>ome opened his eyes with a start, bolting upright into a seated position on the bench where he had slept. He stretched and rolled his neck with a series of satisfying snaps and pops and crunching noises. Sheathing the knife he had slept with he began the process of re-donning his chest rig for the M-56. With practiced precision, Rome stood and mounted the large smart gun into place, snapped the battery connectors in and then quickly checked the readout on the ammo counter. It flashed <em>00</em> a few times and then changed suddenly to a solid <em>99</em>.<br><br><strong>"Alright Kilo, it's time to get some head!"</strong> Rome swung the smartgun upwards and locked it into the secure position as he went around the room shouting various motivational quips in an effort to pump up the rest of the squad, psych them up for the task that lay ahead. He brought his fist down on the shoulder of each person's armor, those his efforts served mostly to psych up only himself.<br><br><strong>"Yeah! Let's do this baby! WOOOOOOOO!"</strong> He was already worked up to near a frenzy, yet he still hadn't heard their updated mission plan. This was par for the course for Rome. The others mostly ignored him, as usual, going about their own pre-combat rituals.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Writersblockade</strong> on <strong>05-08-2010, 00:18:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gizmo had finally slept for all of what seemed like 2 hours. He sat up from his piece of the corner he had claimed and slowly clenched, then unclenched his fingers. He had a feeling they were going to need limbering up for today. Securing his computer first, he heard Rome sounding off down the ragged line of marines rising from sleep. Though he heard the sounds of slaps, he hadn’t recognized that they were getting closer. The big man, in his excitement, had pounded Gizmo’s shoulder like he was owed money. With a wince and hiss of pain, more than likely not even noticed, he rolled the shoulder back and chuckled. He was never going to get used to that.<br><br>As he ran through a mental check of what he needed, he lifted his shotgun and ran an ammo check. After he replenished the shells fired against the…dickheads…he then gently placed the shotgun on his lap. Many of the other marines had snazzy nicknames for their weapons. He had just etched out a small equation on his gun that stated <em><strong>F=ma</strong></em>. Of course to him, the “m” in question would always be Marines, and the "a" ammunition! It was his small way of showing that despite not making the very best Marine, he was still here, and that meant something. His thumb absently traced the rough grooves of his etching, taking in the feeling of the surface against his skin as he looked at the others getting prepped. His eyes fell on Senjo for the briefest of moments, before he moved his eyes elsewhere.<br><br>He’d been trying to figure…her…out.&nbsp; Mimicking human responses and characteristics were all well and good. They helped her assimilate more into the group, and probably freaked people out less. But what was with that outburst during the firefight? Did anyone notice? It was anger, and on top of that, downright real anger. She had filled that thing on Zippo full of rounds before that it died. Definitely not like a Synthetic to do that. Not in his experience at least. Maybe it was something new they were doing to their emotional logarithms. He could spend a lifetime trying to understand and still not know, but he would start keeping tabs of outbursts like that. If only to make sure she wasn’t going faulty on them. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Zillah</strong> on <strong>05-08-2010, 03:34:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				PFC Yui 'Zippo' Sakuraba<br><br><em>About fucking time,</em> Yui thought. <em>Reinforcements.</em> Not that she wasn't still creeped out by the zeeno-death whatevers, but she knew there was one thing better than a squad of Marines, and that was <strong>two</strong> squads of Marines. With Senjo on the case, with some additional intel, with plenty more ammo and guns and hardware ... <em>yeah,</em> Yui thought. <em>Might be rough, but we can do this.</em><br><br>Yui went through the systems check of the Double Forty. She knew she wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but if there was one thing she did know, it was how to set shit on fire. First were the double fuel tanks - fuel levels good, fuel pressure good. Then there was the ignition line, which actually set the fuel ablaze - again, good. Most grunts when handling a Double Forty flamethrower only checked the fuel, but it was the ignition that made things go all pretty and burny. A properly set ignition line could handle low fuel or inconsistent pressure. An improperly set line meant you were basically wearing a bomb.<br><br>Trigger, set. Insulation, check. Coolant valves, check.<br><br>As she went through her checklist, Yui softly began to sing. It was an old song she'd learned as a kid, while camping out with her friends ... roasting marshmallows by the fire. She'd been that one kid so fascinated by the flames that she never ate her marshmallows, she just watched them burn into blackened cinders.<br><br><em>You know that it would be untrue<br>You know that I would be a liar<br>If I was to say to you<br>Girl, we couldn't get much higher ...<br><br>Come on baby, light my fire<br>Come on baby, light my fire<br>Try to set the night on fire ...</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>05-08-2010, 03:49:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jane had kept 'Lucky' in her hands the entire time, not trusting the marines any further than she could throw them....especially Senjo, she'd been way to eager to point her rifle at Jane for her to be counted as a friendly just yet.&nbsp; Not that Jane hadn't felt tired....in truth as soon as the guns had gone down and her adrenalin had stopped pumping she felt like she wanted to pass out....being awake for a day or to solid will do that to ya. But staying awake even longer wasn't that big of an issue yet. She had been taking serotonin suppressors since the xenomorphs had broken out. It was a quick fix and in another day or so she'd begin to feel the adverse effects of not getting any sleep. But up till that point the pills would keep her body fooled into thinking it was running just fine. Besides now that the marines had shown up she was going to be damned if she spent more than another day on this fucking rock. After she quickly double checked 'Lucky' and made sure that the machine pistol's action was working properly, as checking to be sure it's double drum clip was tightly in place, Jane looked over at the marines waiting for them to lead the way. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>10-08-2010, 03:34:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk</strong><br><br>With the unit awake and suited, we were ready to head out and meet up at the rendezvous point. I took point this time around, retracing out steps past the carnage of the night before and out of the colony. As we approached the location I made sure we were all present and accounted for, checking the time. <em>On time as usual</em> I mused to myself, giving the other squad a few moments before breaking radio silence. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>10-08-2010, 05:00:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Master Sgt. Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>He listened to Zippo's little ditty and Rome's macho yelling.&nbsp; They always did that right before a mission.&nbsp; It inspired confidence and chilled him at the same time.&nbsp; It was both scary and confidence boosting.&nbsp; "Jane" had been awake almost the whole time.&nbsp; This whole thing was a shitstorm and she was near the center of it as far as he could tell.&nbsp; He wanted off this rock yesterday, but ultimately it wasn't his call.&nbsp; Now that Capt. Henson was here, even the LT was subordinated.&nbsp; He had a strong feeling that this was far from the end of it and he was rarely wrong about it.&nbsp; <br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=69278.msg3413593#msg3413593">Quote from: Aiden on 04-08-2010, 21:06:51</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk</strong><br><br><strong>"Tell your pick-up to circle the curb, we will make sure we clear a safe landing, over." </strong><br>I rose to my feet and strapped on my gear, holding my helmet in hand. Clicking off the radio, I spoke manually to everyone in the room.<br><strong>"Rise and shine grunts, I want you ready in 5. We got a hot date tonight!" </strong><br>I moved to check my computer, locking the coordinates of the second squad, in the event the drop ship never arrived I had to be ready to walk the squad wherever they are. <br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"Up and at 'em, Leathernecks.&nbsp; Grab your gear and get ready! Gizmo, help Senjo with the Sentries! I don't want those fuckers getting the drop on us!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Writersblockade</strong> on <strong>10-08-2010, 13:46:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em><strong> Norton 'Gizmo' Law</strong></em><br><br>He heard the Sarge give a command and jumped up quickly with a squeaky “Aye, sir”. As he followed Senjo to the sentries, he slung his shotgun over his shoulder to help her with the breakdown of the guns. She gently laid a hand on his arm as he was about to move in, and kindly shook her head <em>”I would be better assisted with some cover-fire while I deactivate the guns, Gizmo.”</em> He stared at the arm on his, then back at her for a brief moment <em>”Yeah…sure, I can do that”</em> giving her space to move, and himself space to fire if anything happened. <br><br>His eyes scanned the corridor while his shotgun faced the grilled floor. Wide encompassing cover-fire was supposed to be Rome’s job, so he couldn’t imagine he got hand-picked for the honor. Absently, his eyes moved over to watch Senjo work. It was like watching the most meticulous kid in the world put away their toys. Every part a place, and a place for every part. He had to appreciate that…the ability to put things in order, to know how it was all supposed to go down. He’s lost that particular feeling a long time ago. The only thing still keeping his world in order was an idea of family that was slowly fading with each cryo-sleep. Sometimes all time did was make wounds deeper.<br><br>Senjo must have noticed his gaze, as she finished up the first gun; she threw out a casual <em>”All clear, Gizmo?”</em> which broke him out of his reverie. Straightening up as much as possible, he gruffed up his voice some as he reported <em>“All clear on my end, Senjo. On to the next gun?”</em> With a nod, she took the sentry gun with her, like he’d take a lunchbox, and that only made him shake his head that much more. He was about as useful as year-old antivirus software right now, and if he knew that, she was sure to know it too. Strangely, that didn’t stop her from making sure he was in position to cover her, before she broke down the last gun. If she was humoring him, at least she was doing a good job of it.<br><br>Arriving back in the Town Hall, He made sure to report to the Sarge that the guns were present and accounted for, and were still working within parameters. After that, he did a final check of his own gear, and strapped his mini comp to his forearm, in case it was needed. Best thing he ever did for this smaller unit was give it a thinly layered armored case he had made from discarded breastplates of M56 armors. He refused to have a computer that wasn’t at least as tough as he was. Once he was ready, he moved in line to await further orders. Apparently they had a meeting to get to.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Urbanzorro</strong> on <strong>11-08-2010, 17:43:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A few moments after the service lock finished cycling closed behind 1st Squad the faint sounds of crashing items, of breaking metal could be heard from deep inside the colony. The noise growing closer and closer with every passing second. The ground slowly starting to shake as if a stampede were in progress. Any active motion trackers suddenly lit up with motion as something approached at great speed from inside the colony, and several points of motion coming from the all around the outside. <br><br>Suddenly a massive impact was made against the service lock causing it to groan loudly on it's frame, and it's center to dent outwards. A second impact followed, the metal screaming louder and the dent growing, a third impact and the door was almost fully bent outwards, on the fourth impact the service lock blew open, a massive hole in it's center as what had caused the impacts made its way through the wrecked door. The creature (http://www.unseen64.net/wp-content/gallery/black-sun/Concept_RhinoAlien02.jpg) panned its head from side to side and let out a ear splitting roar (http://video.search.yahoo.com/video/play?n=21&amp;ei=utf-8&amp;fr=yfp-t-701&amp;fr2=tab-web&amp;tnr=20&amp;p=monster+roar&amp;vid=0001526160484&amp;dt=1188282068&amp;l=0&amp;turl=http%3A%2F%2Fyts.video.search.yahoo.com%2Fimage%2F1f5c92641&amp;rurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fv%2FRQ4iuAEJny4&amp;tit=monster++roar&amp;sigr=1145s1lt2&amp;newfp=1&amp;surl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DRQ4iuAEJny4&amp;sigs=11a905as6) of challenge. As if daring any to oppose it. The various motions moving around 1st Squad continued to register but held back and remained hidden, as if waiting for the right moment to strike. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>15-08-2010, 06:35:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer had milled about after things calmed down inside the town hall. She was wary of 'Jane' but couldn't sleep either, so she was on guard duty near the door the entire time Kilo was resting. She dug out an MRE and ate it, her pulse rifle straddled across her lap the entire time and her motion tracker sitting between her legs, aimed at the door and within view of the vent. If anything tried to get in that way, she'd hopefully know about it, but today had been a day of firsts for the young Corpsman and she, honestly, wasn't sure what to expect next. Probably something big... horror movies, which this sort of felt like, it started small and then it got big. Big motherfuckers were, in her opinion, better than small motherfuckers. The big ones were, well, big and slow. Kind of like Rome, Jennifer chuckled to herself. But the small bastards could hit you from anywhere, big things were easier to kill. <br><br>As the period of rest moved on, Jennifer actually found herself becoming more and more focused, awake and attentive. She could hear the creatures shrieking and moving, but strangely she mostly heard Rome breathing. Someone was also snoring in the back, she assumed it might be Senjo. But, then again, andriods didn't need to breath. <em>Your losing it...</em> Jennifer thought to herself, discarding her MRE bag on the floor next to her and picking up her rifle again. The sleek, personalized camouflage on the weapon made it harder to see than Jennifer herself. Although she'd modified it years ago, before she was the platoon corpsman, Jennifer took pride in her weapons sleeker and much smaller appearance compared to the standard rifles her comrades used. Officially Marines weren't supposed to have modified weapons, especially those which touched on performance, but Jennifer had clearly shown her regimental commander her rifle suited her needs well enough. It had approximately the same accuracy at range as the standard M41A1, obviously less because of the shortened barrel, but it was much more compact and allowed Jennifer to carry more supplies for her bag and still not be hampered when she needed to move.<br><br>She mused these things and of course her new enemy until the platoon was starting to get up. Jennifer took a drink of water and checked over her weapons and gear, focusing on her rifle and medical bag, not much else though. She coughed and took another drink of water, the activities of yesterday had left her tired last night, but she was more awake now than before, surprisingly, without sleep. As Rome smacked her on the shoulder, she reached up and tapped him on the helmet, literally almost having to get up on her toes to do so. With the contact from second squad, Jennifer almost let out a sigh of relief, but knew that the job wasn't going to be done. It wouldn't, because nothing would ever go according to plan. They'd get to the dropship, and then some flying black bugs would show up and kill the ride out. But having second squad on the ground was a huge relief, she had a couple of very close friends in second squad, the toil of yesterday made her want to greet a few friends to either way, go kill some bugs. <br><br>Once on the move, Jennifer took her normal place near the back, using her motion tracker to keep an eye on the squads six. They backtracked and not surprisingly, the hab block didn't look any better for the night, some of the floor was melted down and Jennifer had to navigate it with caution, sticking close to the next closest person to her; she didn't know who it was. But as soon as they'd made it behind the service lock and it was closed... something approached. Jennifer at first picked up nothing, but felt the rumbling and heard the noise. She pulled her helmet up on one side to get the radio out of her ear, and could now clearly hear something approaching. She focused on her sector, still nothing on her scope, but the noise was so close, she couldn't help but turn around. Pings of motion started up all around them, Jennifer turned her motion tracker and in every direction, something was moving. Suddenly the service lock was hit, and dented out, a few more strikes pushed to the too its limit and eventually straight to the ground as a giant... something crashed through the service lock.<br><br>"<strong>Awh, for fuck sakes!</strong>" Jennifer groanted, dropping her motion tracker and raising her rifle as the beast howled. "<strong>Jesus christ, Rome its your twin.</strong>" Jennifer piped up, no real hint of joking in her voice but she clearly was. "<strong>Did you give him singing lessons? He sucks!</strong>"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>CmdrRenegade</strong> on <strong>15-08-2010, 08:22:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael "Sarge" O'Shay<br><br>The sensors had lit up like Christmas trees and pinged incredibly loudly.&nbsp; Before he could react to this, though he heard the sound.&nbsp; He thought it was an earthquake.&nbsp; Boom...BOom...BOOm...it got closer.&nbsp; "Marines, watch your angl......" he couldn't finish.&nbsp; The biggest.....thing he had ever seen had crashed through the service lock.&nbsp; Had the creatures been waiting? He had seen that the rest were remaining on the periphery while the huge one had crashed through.&nbsp; They were known to be that smart.&nbsp; There was no time to get back into the city hall.&nbsp; No time to think.&nbsp; Must act.&nbsp; There was only one thing that could work at this point.&nbsp; <br><br>"Break out towards 2nd Squad's rally point! Waste anything that gets in your way!" O'Shay unclicked the safety on his Pulse Rifle.&nbsp; "Marines! We are leaving!"<br><br>As the break out began, he gave one more order.&nbsp; "Marines, leap frog! 2 teams! 50! 'till we're outta here." This meant that every 50 yards or so, half the squad would fire their weapons behind them to kill or slow down any pursuers.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Writersblockade</strong> on <strong>15-08-2010, 16:45:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gizmo fell into step with the other Marines while moving towards the rally point. He noted the direction that Senjo was facing, and looked the opposite way. His computer sat on his inside of his forearm and constantly scanned for motion. Like the other sensors around him, it showed a whole lot of nothing. He could feel the tense atmosphere like a blanket around him, almost to the point of suffocation. His finger repeatedly stroked the trigger guard while he absently dodged the melted pieces of metal from their previous close encounter. <em>”Maybe they decided we weren’t very good snacks after last time”</em> he whispered hopefully.<br><br>Senjo overheard him, and replied in her casually cool manner “That theory is unsound, Gizmo. We must assume that they absorbed the same losses from the original colonists, at least in the beginning. The attack was merely an attempt to gauge our strength and response time, therefore…”[/i] Senjo’s head appeared to cock slightly to the side before she brought her rifle up in a more ready position <em>”They’re here.”</em> was all she had time to say before Gizmo’s motion sensor, not to mention those around him, responded to multiple contacts around them. <br><br>As his heart crawled into his throat to abandon ship, Gizmo brought the shotgun up with his finger on the trigger. He stole looks to his computer and was terrifyingly puzzled <em> “How the hell did they get around us so fast!? What the f…”</em> was all he got out before his words were cut off by the banging on the service corridor. Dread made the color drain from his face. Something that could make a door like that buckle was not going to be bothered by the pea-shooter in his hands. Before the door could effectively be blown off, Gizmo had slung the shotgun and grabbed a det charge from his pack. <br><br>As he fell back to Jennifer, he showed her the charge and yelled <em>”time to go!</em> as the door flew from the opening. He used the beast’s posturing time to set the charge, and tossed it as close as possible to him, before moving at a spring with the rest of the platoon. It was on a short-timer, but the reality was that they didn’t have long if the fucker caught up with them anyway.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>17-08-2010, 20:10:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Tiberius "Caesar" Mengsk</strong><br><br><strong>"You heard Sarge marines, move it, I got your six!"</strong><br>I looked at the beast and spat in disgust at the thing, the sense of fear giving my body a much needed dose of adrenaline. Like hell I wanted to waste my slugs on that thing, hooking up with FATHER to use my up link, requesting a little fire power back up for the massive abomination before me. Switching my attention to radio second squad I quickly alerted them of what might be coming their way, requesting assistance as the scanners lit up like the lights of Vegas. <em>Fuck this god damn rock!</em><br><strong>"Stay alert,&nbsp; I don't want to rip any of you out of the belly of that thing! move move!" </strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Fate of Kilo Platoon</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Michael Corvus</strong> on <strong>24-08-2010, 06:00:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br><br>Rome walked along in near the rear of the column, just ahead of Widow. The squad was unusually quiet as they moved through the dark corridors, knowing just what was out there waiting for them, no, not waiting... hunting them. Tensions seemed to be running high for everyone, though the team continued to function smoothly, as one cohesive unit. Rome eyes were wide in anticipation of what may come at any moment which only served to make him like scarier and more intimidating than he already was. <br><br>As the squad cleared the Town Hall, the door sealed closed behind them with a loud "THUD" and then cycled into the locked position. As if on que, everyone's motion trackers lit up in all directions. "Contact!.... EVERYWHERE!" Rome yelled out almost in unison with the others squad mates with motion trackers, just as they had been trained to do. There was a loud crash, then another and another, denting in the massive, thick door to the Town Hall. The last thud shattered a hole in the center, a beast from the lowest pits of hell poked it's head through and blasted a heart stopping roar flashing rows upon rows of long, sharp fangs.<br><br>Rome veered around to the biggest threat and trained his Smart Gun on the creatures head. Hearing Widow's remark, Rome couldn't help but laugh despite their current situation. "I thought that was your stomach growling, Widow. Did you eat last night?" He joked back at the most inopportune time. Deciding to add a little more <em>umph</em> to before he let <em>Sexy Beast</em> take a bite out of the horrific creature, Rome ripped a fragmentation grenade from his chest rig and pulled the pin. Cooking it off for 3 seconds he flung the grenade towards the beast and then squeezed the trigger of his weapon, back peddling quickly to keep up with the others and anticipating the grenades detonation.<br><br>Rome heard the order from the Lieutenant to move out on the double. Hearing the call that Caesar had their six, Rome let up off the trigger and turned, rushing towards the others. He knew that Zippo and Reaper were near the front of the column along with Sarge. Until ordered otherwise, Rome decided where he was most needed at the moment was to assist in covering their rear flank. He kept scanning and panning the M-56, searching for targets and eying the LT's status. "C'mon Caesar!"
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>