Meltdown

New thread because old one is scattered to hell, bloody will have copied and pasted your factions so dont add them again!

The game

We Each make our own unique factions, then we create interconnected short stories that will paint a picture of how this "unrest" plays out, eventually we will decide when and how to end the Story. CURRENT STRUCURE: one faction starts a event with his short story, then the rest of the factions tell the story from their perspective until they've all done it, then it starts over with a new event.




The Setting

2046. It's been ten years since the Bombshell, a conflict between 3 superstates; each controlling vast spheres of influence all over the Earth. Now, through the rubble, the third superstate has collapsed, its government destroyred, the two remaining superpowers have struck a truce to work together for the benefit of mankind. The territory once under control of the 3rd superstate is now a literal and metaphorical wasteland, where a neverending conflict exists between local freedom fighters, bandits, and simple refugees; this region has fallen under many names, the The Forsaken Land, the Region of Conflict, The end of the Earth, The forgotten wastes, hell. The 2 superstates see this region as a threat to their shared global stability, as well as a source of great profit (seeing has how much the of 3rd superstate's resources and hardware still remain intact); they send Mercenary groups in to seize these resources and hardware for the respective Superstate, but the area is full of hostile factions all ready to push the Mercenaries ouf of their land and take what they want. Currently, a stalemate has befallen the land between the various local militias and the Mercenary Raiders, each losing as much as they take, each refusing to back down. It is the year 2046, and there is great Unrest.

-Prettied up by Cap'n Scrambles.



Grahm's Steel

After the Collapse of the 3rd Superstate, much of its former military forces had either become refugees or joined local gangs of freedom fighters and bandits; but not Grahm's. Once the supreme commander of the old governments armored columns, he fought valently for his country and won many convential battles. Often featured prominantly in propaganda with his men at his side, hes reputation as a brilliant commander and leader was equally well known throughout the old government; his men were known for their fierce patriotism and sought to protect the superstates citizens with the upmost priority.

Now, in the ashes of the old government, he has brought together the remainder of his loyal soldiers and now attempts to bring order to the unrest. Calling his band of men "Grahm's Blood & Steel" they roll across the land, assaulting bandit camps and conscripting locals. Some say Grahm unites his men under the flag of patriotism, that he and his men still see the many inhabitants of the forsaken region as citizens of the old government and that he seeks to protect them from bandit and mercenary influence.

The hatred felt by Grahm towards the so called "liberators" is well known, and he will spare nothing to bring down their operations at even the slightest whiff of involvment or even existance in any given area. Many believe Grahm to have gone insane, mostly because his "crusade" has an impossible goal and serves no good to anyone but himself and his men as he rolls through villages with tanks and soldiers.

Grahm's forces primarly wear Heavy Combat Fatigues bolstered with flak jackets and shock pads around the chest, shoulders and legs. Although they mainly use Tanks and Light vehicles to engage hostile forces, they do have lighter ground soldiers, which sinmply have less overall body armor and are armed with a variety of Military Grade small arms. Their fatigues and armor are all a drab olive green color with patchs of camoflauge. They mostly do not wear combat helmets(instead using tank crew helmets or hats/rags, and ussually wear goggles or respirators to compensate for the desert enviroment), and some higher ranking officers under his command(including Grahm himself) have been seen with short capes (prominantly featuring the old Government's flag); They take great pride in their gear and personalize it greatly.

The Liberators

The Liberators are a network of pirates. After the collapse of government, many tried to find safe haven, only to be denied due to over population, or race, or any number of reasons. When all else shunned them, the Liberators took them in. The Liberators housed and trained them. Unique in the fact that they are not a government and do not wish to be one, the Liberators don't have their own resources. They have no oil wells, no crops, no factories. What they do have is vehicles and guerilla training. Known for speed, the Liberators attack convoys in groups, minutes later speeding away with stolen goods.

They're a sand-faring people, dressing in long, tattered cloaks, colors matching the sand that surrounds them. They are outfitted with masks that filter sand to keep it from entering their eyes and their respiratory system, and have been come to be known as "Death Masks" for the frightening appearance of this mask. The majority of their weapons and vehicles are either stolen, or assembled with junk. They are keen scavengers, with a philosophy to waste not. It is rumored that they don't even possess a leader, but are rather a collective group, fighting to survive in the inhospitable world, a family unit, so as to say.

All Liberators are taught a code upon entering the group. "Liberate goods, not lives." They are taught to avoid murder at all costs, and to only steal what they need.

They have been called a great many things, local villagers simply refer to them as "El Caído", or "The Fallen." The superpowers look at them as a petty gang, and other factions have sentenced them and all affiliates to death.


To clear up confusion on appearance,



Now, imagine a human dressed similar to that, only they're enveloped by the cloak, so it's more robe-like than cape-like, and instead of the Grievous mask, he's wearing something similar to this.

Now you've nailed how Liberators look.





Yaznen Rebels
They are a large group of Street-bike racers who of which live in the city areas, they roam in large packs and thrive off killing innocent civilians for lulz, rumor has it they live in the sewers to hide from the city dwellers. There leader Agon Yakazu was the creater and leader of the entire force; He's blind in one eye and his entire face is made up of mechanic hardware to save his face, and further more to save his skull and brain. His whole group where the same jacket, which says "To Live, Is To Die." With a mechanical-looking skull.



Cavalieri Scuri

The Cavalieri Scuri were around before the fighting between the superstates. They were usually treated as a last resort, or if the situation called, the first.
Their origins draw back to the dark ages, kings would often ask of them to remove a spokesman..or symbol from a rivaling kingdom. The influence of the Cavalieri Scuri continued throughout history.
They were largely connected to the assassination of the pope in 2014 which resulted in the fall of catholicism. Scuri members would never meet a client in person, or even contact them.
Certain members would act as messengers setting up assassinations or contracts for members to carry out, this resulted in Scuri headquarters to remain undetected for decades. This secrecy ended when a member compromised a mission and was tortured until the whereabouts of the Scuri were given. The head of this current generation was given an option. Die, or work for one of the superstates. He chose the second.

The Cavalieri Scuri currently works as the silent blade of the main superstate, working side by side with the military and silencing any uprising or forces working against them.

The standard issue garb for a footsoldier is a black leather coat tied up with buckles with an iron breastplate covering the front. The Cavalieri Scuri logo ( the skeleton of a horse) is engraved on the front. The coat ends at the top of the foot with slits on the back and sides of it up to the waist. The sleeves are pulled up revealing elbow high leather gloves. The masks they wear are shaped like the masks worn by doctors during the black death. Bird shaped with a hooked nose with pipes connecting inside of it to a pack on the back. The mask is full head with a portion on the mouth cut out and black wire covering the mouth for the wearer to speak. The pipes pump fluid into the body due to surgery removing certain organs from inside the body to enhance stamina and lower fatigue. There faces remain a mystery but many guess that their ears are removed with devices to enhance hearing, and an eye removed for an electronic HUD implanted.




[align=center] Skjør Fire
(Skee-uhr Fee-reh)

Formed in Norway before migrating to the United States, Skjør Fire (Norwegian for "Fragile Four") was made up of ex-cons and thugs from the street. Strictly a white, norwegian gang, they specialize in auto-theft, assassinations, and information gathering. SF was originally headed by 4 leaders, the original founders of the faction. Håkon Edvardson, famed for killing 7 enemies of his during a wedding. Løki Dahlstrom, a notorius sharpshooter and previous member of the Norwegian Beredskapstroppen Counter-Terrorism unit. Stian Fosse, a close friend of Håkon and reliable theif. And Kamilla Mortensen, the only female member, known for using her female assets to gain information. Currently, only Løki and Kamilla remain, as Håkon was killed in a shooting on his birthday which claimed a number of his family members, and Stian died in a freak plane crash over the Atlantic.

Currently based in Southern Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the gang is beginning to dwindle in number, although they still keep their tight grip on their territories and are continuing to expand.

Gang members dress in black tattered leather, crafted in the designs of their medieval forefathers. Though they are for more cosmetic than tactical purpose, they wear leather gloves, boots, chestplates, and greaves. Lieutennates of their gang wear a single, dragon inspiried pauldrom on their left shoulder. Higher ups wear similar pauldrons on both shoulders, and the 2 leaders are the only members who wear headgear, in the form of either a helmet, or mask. They deem their members as lesser beings than they, not worthy enough of even seeing their true identity, therefore their headgear shows only their eyes, if anything at all (some helmets are designed in such a way as to cast a dark shadow over their eyes.) Soldiers use weapons by Heckler & Koch, and SIGSAUER. [/align]




[align=center]Rattlesnake Tactical Solutions[/align]

Rattlesnake Tactical Solutions, founded in 2016 due to dwindling amounts of recruits in the world's armed forces, is a Central Europe-Based Private Military Contractor whose business primarily consists of waging war on behalf of the many sovereign republics and factions located in the highly-contested "Conflict Zone," the 30 percent of the world not controlled by the EU and the UAR (United American Republic, basically the U.S., Canada, Mexico and most of South America). Our services include wholesale arms manufacturing and distribution, military contracts (using our men and machines to fight the war) and support roles, such as using our personal intelligence satellites, unmanned vehicles or deployable facilites (Such as field hospitals). We have no alliegiences and will assist any sovereign republics or factions willing to purchase contracts. We use the best training systems possible for our field contractors and use the most advanced weapons avaliable, such as the G68 Assault Rifle (A 6.8 SPC variant of the G36) manufactured by Heckler and Koch and the Mk. 14 EBR A3 7.62 Sniper Rifle, and also vehicles such as the Predator S3 UAV and the Dual-Rotored Hellfire Heavy Gunship. If you need the best tactical solution, go Rattlesnake.

All of our Field Contractors are given adjustable MOLLE Osprey Equipment best suited for the task at hand and can be best identified by their Oakley A-Frame Ballistic Goggles and Balaclavas, as well as the distinctive Olive and Orange Rattlesnake patch on their right shoulder. The left patch is the designated patch for the areo-of-operation and will change for every given conflict zone.




CODENAME: Blackspark.

Founded by several high ranking officers in the Eurasian Union's military. Highly classified black ops group. Few know of their existence, few ever will. The EU has been diligent in covering up any records of their ops. There have been slip ups,but they have been....corrected.
Founded shortly after the earth shaking conflict that left one third of the world in shambles, they were assembled for one purpose. Profit. Wars are costly, and require a steady income. Looting the remains of a war-torn state would generally be thought of as shady business, but then again, no one to question it if no one knows..
Candidates for the program are all in near-perfect mental and physical condition. They under go rigorous training that prepares them for the most difficult and stressful situations possible. Their armaments are the best of the best. The standard issue rifle for Blackspark is the Berreta ARX-160, a very accurate, rugged assault rifle with a wide range of attachments for varying situations. The standard issue support weapon is a scaled down version of the popular XM3000 minigun nicknamed the "Spartan". Other weapons such as sidearms and snipers are chosen by the soldier.
The entry of the Blackspark soldiers is concealed by orbital drops pods armed with the latest in stealth technology. Many other means of protection are used by the EU military to keep their movements concealed. They are the elite, they are the best. They are completely unprepared for the Hell they're dropping int





[align=center]Fallen Shadows[/align]

A strong pack of hunters and assassins, Fallen Shadows has remained relatively unknown to the rest of the world. Seeming somewhat tribal to most others, they usually are passed off as worthless in terms of supplies. Using a large warehouse bunker, which was once used by the State to store supplies for passing soldiers, and many small camps throughout the desert, they have maintained a strong and passive force for years. With the recent mobilization of Grahm's armoured divisions and the Liberators ever growing strength, the Fallen Shadows have stood among the ruins to protect their land and populace. They tend to stick to stealth and guerrilla tactics, staying well off the battlefield, picking soldiers off with high powered rifles and small mortars. Scarce water has forced them to move away from their usual hunting grounds to raid towns and villages with weak resistance. Many see them as a pestilence to be wiped from the desert, but others would disagree and say they are the light of new hope. Their numbers dwindle around several hundred.

They dress in brown or tan cloaks and respirator masks, much like the Liberators. Fallen Shadows face masks, however, are a deep black color, with blood on the cheek, marking their kills. They are very skilled in blending with the surrounding and masking themselves as to not attract attention. They do not use vehicles, rather horses and camels. They use high powered or semi-automatic rifles, such as the M95 or SVU, respectively, and are heavily customized to suit each hunters specific strengths. They are incredibly skilled in knife and hand-to-hand combat. They have also been seen using primitive mortars and other artillery to weaken tank columns.

Journal Entry #231, August 24th 2046


It was a unusually stormy day, but then again that worked for us on that day. We were on a

convoy en route to a rumored abandoned Bandit camp, we could always use the extra supplies

and munitions. Normally we don't run convoys this far inside Liberator Territory, but we brought

along a shitload of protection, heavy weapons, Tanks, all that good stuff. it was about

4 when they first hit, by the looks of it, they were surprised by our new hardware, they

didnt know what hit them. They came in with a couple light vehicles and a bunch of little

soldiers armed with what looked like crude rocket launchers and rifles, expecting an APC

at most, we demolished their vehicles right from the start, one of our Tanks even rammed straight into a tinhead shittercycle;

I got up with my rifle and popped a few rounds in the nearest one of those bastards. I saw another one get torn

apart by a tank round, we all fought with great gusto; laughing at the fools as they

helplessly flung their makeshift rockets at our tanks. I swear i could see an expression of horror in one of em's facemask

when his rocket merely bounced off one of our tanks.

Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, 3 of G Company's grenadiers took off towards a flipped tin head shitter,

exposed out in the open they got pelted down; filthy bastards.

Before long they hightailed it out of there, my armored unit went off after 'em, after an

hour of chasing we came up on one of their encampments, abandoned. We linked back up with

the convoy and arrived at the "camp", nothing left, just some burnt tents and dead

bodies. fucking Tin Heads must have used the camp as a lure, too bad they didn't count on

us bringing in the big guns; stupid Tin Heads, at least we killed a lot em for Grahm,

that makes up for it in my book.

First Story


Liberator POV:
Perched far above the convoy, we waited on the cliffs. Grahm's Pigs were rolling through the sand. Again.
A risky job to be sure, but the payoff was unrivaled. The Pigs had guns, vehicles, oil, and above all else, water.
Precious, heavenly water. The convoy had stopped, apparently engine trouble or the like. Maybe they know we're up here?
But, in that instance they would have fired. In any case, we have the advantage. We always do. Takes less time to react when
don't have to follow orders. Men & women were adjusting their breathing apparatus, making sure their weapons were loaded,
and waiting. Then, as one, we entered our Junkers and vehicles previously acquired from Grahm's little Piggies. Time to move. Our collective plan was simple.
a fourth would approach from behind, a fourth from the front, just like last time. Box them in, hop out, Hold them up and liberate
them of their belongings.
The plan was simple. The plan was stupid. When it all comes down to it, fuck the plan. Do what you can to get out alive
and don't kill anyone. Practically instinct. We carried out our "tactical maneuver". But something was different. They didn't just stop. They
rammed one of our vehicles and DEPLOYED. IT took us a moment to realize what had happened. There security was beefed up. Big men with big guns emerged
from the vehicles, firing on our batch of Liberators. We didn't have armor, they just shredded right through us.
That's when the panic hit. Liberators pulling away, I tried to take it all in. I tried to, but my driver had been shot. The Junker flipped over and
landed on it's side. Grahm's pigs were approaching the car, murder in their eyes. I sighed, and gripped my handgun. It was a Revolver,
taken off one of Yaznen's boys. I came out of the window and shot all three of those piggy pricks. Shockingly enough, they actually died. I stripped them of their weapons and ran. I ran like Hell.
I ran until it hurt. One of the Junkers noticed the crazed madman fleeing gunshots and swerved to pick me up. I had been shot in the left arm, but I'd survive.
Besides, we had bigger issues, like the fact that those fucking pigs were NOW following US, we led them through our decoy camp, useless piece of shit it was, and got away.

Not a good day, but we'll be checking out the hardware I scooped up.

For some reason, I found it a lot easier to figure out what was happening when looking through the variable scope installed on my G68. I could see green trucks, APCs, tanks and shit all jammed together on a road. That meant it was Graham's boys, techinacally our allies since the rich bastard practically shoved money at us to kill the liberators in this peice-of-shit strach of land. So I passed it down on my comms not to engage any halted vehicles or troops.

Then I saw the barrel of a remarkably long and bayoneted rifle raise up and wave around like a flag. Shit, that meant Liberator. Two burst of air on my comm meant enemies in my sights. I got two bursts back from all of the other units in the area, who began converging all of their barrels on the waving rifle. Then up popped the other ones. I engaged the infared laser on my rifle and started marking as many targest as possible with invisible beams of light which were bound to show up on everyone's left-eye HUD. The masked crusaders started down the slope rather clumsily, and Graham's boys hadn't seen them yet. They wouldn't like knowing we were following them, so we didn't let them in on it. It was necessary, to maintain rattlesnake's integrity. As sson as they did start noticing, they opened up. And a flashing green light on my HUD said I should, too. So we opened up from 300 meters and took down as many of them as we could in the duration of the minute and a half battle. We took down exactly 24 of them with the four of us, and the Greenies took out plenty whith their 250 convoy escort troops. They probably could have managed without us, but help is always a good thing. We pulled back five clicks for a helo escort, and nobody knew we were there except for the four of us and Delta 5, our intel officer. In terms of sheer combat and tactical ability, we were the best, Rattlesnake's elite squad. We had done it again. Now lets drop down in some other shithole and make our money the hard way.

Cavalieri Scuri Field Diary

They only asked for one to be sent out, with strict order not to kill and fire only as a defense..so far, so good.
I had knocked out a scout and stole his armor..I buried him to his chest in sand a mile away, up to him if he survives, but I didn't kill him.
His clothes have proven helpful, I've laid down and their troops have past right by me.
My mission was simple, do a basic recon of the battle. Intel told me that Grahm was going to attack a rebel base belonging to the Liberator folk..I don't know the details but it looks like Grahms folk have the upper hand, of course they do, Guerilla tactics won't work if the enemy surprises you with a tank platoon.
My respirator causes a steady beat, I cover the sound of me breathing with mortar and tank shells.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I laid down in the same spot for 2 hours, the only thing that moved on my body were my eyes, the soldiers cloak made me appear like I could fall through the sand into nothingness. But, I didn't move a muscle for the entire battle. When it was over I went to the spot I dug a hole for the soldier to give him his cloak, he wasn't there.

God speed, stranger.

Scuri-245, 7/24/46

snip

[s][May I join?][/s]

August 23rd or 24th, 2046

The day is young and stormy. The wind is blowing a good 30 km/h and I can hear thunder in the distance...

Today my spotter and I witnessed the first conflict we've seen in a couple months between the so-called "Liberators" and a division of Grahm's tanks through the scope of my KSVK. We were on a ridge about 1 kilometer away. I lying on a jagged rock strutting from the side of the cliff, my spotter on top of the ridge with a pair of binoculars and his semi-auto rifle. He yelled down to me and I looked over to another ridge and spotted the Liberator's making their way down the hill. I'm surprised the tanks didn't notice them, but I guess it's hard to hear over the roar of an engine. They got caught up on the trail when the jeep things flew into the middle of the tanks. About twenty heavily armored troops jumped out of an APC. The Liberator's opened fire but there was no hope, they basically got slaughtered. Grahm's men take no heed in killing. It angers me how worthless they see everyone but themselves. We call them Dogs, but they don't even deserve that title. I was tempted to put a bullet right through the head of the Division's leader, but with the wind this strong the chance of hitting would be slim.

I saw flashes on a ridge to the east. Whoever they were, they were firing into the tanks. I couldn't tell who they were shooting at. The Liberators, I think, I didn't see many of Dogs fall. One of the jeeps flipped when a tank smashed into it. I saw someone get out and three Dogs fell down. He took off running down the trail. Few others escaped. I saw several captured and executed. I wrote down what I saw today to show my Pack Leader. He has been very interested in these conflicts lately. After the skirmish, I climbed up the rocks to Josef and we started back to camp.

A short battle, thirty minutes at most.

Journal Entry #232, August 25th 2046

It was nearing noon, that little tinhead trick cost us 3 men and a shitload of fuelm we

had to return to the nearest base camp pronto or we'd be stranded in the middle of

tinhead territory for days. Fresh from our victory; we didnt think twice about a

counterattack, after all we killed quite a few of them and as best we could tell, there

wasnt a tin head camp for miles. It all went wrong soon however; we were passing through

a small valley, nice little chockpoint, we had gone about half way through until the lead

vehicle issued a halt. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, i climbed down into my

APC and sealed the hatch as did the rest of the convoy. We all waited in silence, ready

for anything...but what did we stop for? was it an ambush? Tinheads? we didnt know, radio

silence as soon as the halt was ordered. then out of nowhere we heard a thundering crash

as our rear vehicles were lit up by anti tank rounds; i strained to see what was

happening through my viewport, there were at least 30 of em, all dressed up fancy and

heavilly armed, they werent tinheads. I screamed to the gunner and told em to unload on

the group just behind us, but it was chaos, our rear had completely collapsed and our

main tanks were all in the front; i popped the hatch and shouldered my rifle and shot

just as one of them was about to fire at us. We lost a good 4 APCs and 2 tanks before we

were able to bring the big guns to bear, at that point the fancypants retreated; aint as

stupid as tinheads i'll give em that. We were all a little shaken, but this had cost us

even more fuel, we had to leave right away. We were all on edge the rest of the trip, we

didnt see shit until we reached the depot, but to our horror it was scorched, NOTHING

LEFT. At first we were pissed the fuck off, but it didnt take long to realise we were

stranded now, we would have to set up a defensive line for days or even WEEKS. GOD DAMN

FUCKING SHIT WHY US? I'd like to rip the head off of the bastards who did this, and with

those fancypants still around, i dont know how long we will last.

Liberator Log #86

Grahm. That fucking bastard. Parading about in his military uniform, pretending he's still the people's champion.
Laughable. The pile of bodies his convoy left behind proves otherwise. We've been tracking them for a few hours now, but something's up.
The men are stopped inside this shitty canyon & they're are talking to one another. We're laying low in the sand, there's no way the pigs have spotted us.
So what are they discussing? We all draw our rifles, focusing our scopes, trying to get some sort perspective on the situation. The men look...
confused.
Then, it all happened at once. Several military looking men dressed in black burst from the sand, firing high tech weapons, tearing the pigs
to pieces. One of the men produced a rather large weapon and fired at one of the tanks.
It burst through the wall, making several loud noises, and then the tank stopped operating. I arose, turning towards
the others, stating, "C'mon. This show's fun, but we've got work to do." Piling into the Junkers,
we took off. Grahm was going to pay dearly for the blood he spilled. Our driver finally spoke up.
"Why don't we just steal the fuel?" The rest of us started laughing, and I looked at him and said "Because, we've only got about 10 minutes before the Blackspark boys retreat.
Our band of Junkers pulled up to the dept, shuddering as the engines came to a stop. "no! Keep it on!" I snapped.
"We have to get out fast!" I hopped out with two men, all of us laden with IED's. We took off at a dead sprint, halting quickly at each fuel canister to set a charge.
Must have been 3 minutes before we heard the sounds of the Piggy Convoy. Engines roaring, the sound of gunfire, men screaming. We were
running out of time. My blood burned as I strained to move as fast as humanly possible, setting the last of the charges.
I rose, up, my last charge set. The other two men had already finished. Now it was time to leave. In one last effort, I
began to run towards the junkers, as fast as I could. But something caught my eyes. A satchel of food and water, no doubt left ny our accomplices. I couldn't help it. I stopped to scoop it up, and, seeing a few other, took them as well. Then I began sprinting towards the Junkers, for good this time. Everything screamed as the noises grew louder. I ran. I ran like Hell. I ran until it hurt, arriving at the Junkers.
Now standing before the depot, high up on the dunes, I realized something. Sound carries in canyons. The enemy convoy was a good half-mile away.
I reached inside me cloak, and produced a cellular phone. I dialed the number. What happened next was spectacular. One by one, the IED's erupted, causing
a beautiful chain reaction of explosions. We didn't woop. We didn't holler. We only smirked in satisfaction and drove away.


Damn good day.

August 25th, 2046


We had been hunting around the hills for nearly 10 days. 4 days ago we spotted a fuel depot belonging to Grahm, but it was well protected by a passing armor division. Yesterday, I saw them move down the road. It was pretty large, they had a lot of soldiers. I wonder where they are going. We started running low on water this morning, I'm thinking about moving into the depot and seeing what we can find. 10 pretty well armed soldiers were sitting around a fire eating.

I told Chinua and several other snipers to set up on the hills. Me and 4 others checked our AK-74's and made our way down. We interrupted their dinner with gunfire. Chinua's men took 5 down instantly. The other 5 took off for cover. We shot down 4, but the fifth, their commander I suspect, was much more elusive. I walked in between large tanks of fuel when a saw him bolt around the corner and try to slash me at the neck. Chinua tore his face off with a .50, splattering it all over my robes.

We must have looked through the depot for an hour or so. We found a 3 gallons of water, a box of 200 5.45, a box of 20 .50's, and a carton of some foreign cigarettes. We also picked up a couple of some incredibly light, plastic rifles. I would have thought they were toys if Sekani hadn't been shot in the leg. We met around the main building and enjoyed the water. I marked my two kills on my mask. That makes 19.

We heard something explode. It sounded an AT round hit a tank. I didn't know anyone but Grahm had heavy guns like that. A plume of dense black smoke went up and we decided to take our spoils and move out. Just in time too, we were sitting on top of the hill when a band of Liberators showed up. They refueled their vehicles and moved off. Minutes later the whole depot lit up like a star. I started laughing. Laughing, not because Grahm's men would be so angry, but because those Liberators justify their stealing of goods, but they waste just as much as they gain.

We mounted our horses and went back to camp.

[align=center]- Uzehazi, the owl.[/align]

Cavalieri Scuri unit# - 14


- Day before the Liberator depot assault. 2am -

I was given the mission briefing 2 hours before being sent out to undertake it. Some Liberators were going to assault a near by checkpoint that Grahms men would be visiting to re supply and move out. They'd only be there tomorrow for 8 hours. The messenger also told me that they made a remark before their discussion was over. "Safety off, friend". I got the hint. I'm writing this minutes before I start my mission. I'll write more when I've accomplished it.

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I walked out of the truck 3 miles away from the canyon Grahms depot, to avoid being caught under radar. No one was to know I was here. I walked the 3 miles without my legs even getting sore. When I arrived at the canyon, I pulled out my binoculars and scouted the area down. 25 guards. I've had worse. I looked around more, there was only a single watch tower in the middle of the complex, my guess is that he had the controls to the alarm. I swung a silenced semi automatic sniper rifle off my back. What brand? I don't know, to me, their all just killing tools. Like how it doesn't mater who made the hammer, or what kind it is. It will always be called a hammer. He was smoking, windows closed. To my luck he opened them, screen was closed. Good enough. I held my breath and took the shot, 4 seconds. With the window open, I didn't have to break glass.
I hammered and spike into the ground with the rifle and repelled down to the bottom of the canyon. There were guard dogs roaming freely, I managed to sneak up on one and break it's neck. It let out a yelp and caught the attention of a guard. I laid down against the sand, the usual Scuri garb replaced with an adapting sneaking suit and a desert camo cloak. I was 2 meters away from the guard, he saw the dead dog and was hesitant to raise the alarm, instead he investigated to what killed it. That move cost him his life, I rose up quickly, swinging the rifle around as I rose, the guard rose with me but my finger was on the trigger first. One shot between the eyes. I tore off the cloak and moved towards the wall. A bell went off, to my surprise, calling the guards to the mess hell. It was lunch, tI couldn't believe me luck. I stayed around the outside of the camp scouting the place out, where the fuel tanks were, water, supplies, the works. When I was done I planted tiny, but highly explosives charges at key points in the comlex. With that, I put the guard in the tower in a crate, and left.


My guess is that the Liberators will grab what they want and leave Grahms men stranded, I'll stick around and watch for a few days. When a day passes since the attack, I'll detonate the bombs. The coming platoon has no idea whats coming. I put my cloak on and dragged the dog and the dead guard to a nearby cave. I burried them in the ground to pass the time, and wait for the show to begin.

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