Ask to Join Rainbow Six: Absolution

[Salted_Apples]

Discussion thread: rainbow-six-absolution-sign-up-open.19888

Clink

A shell casing hit the floor of the designated firing range for Hereford Base, UK, as a smirk stretched across the tanned, gentleman like face of Oscar Cantanzarite. The Italian special forces operator had been stationed there for a year, in which time he had got accustomed to the hypnotic ballet of firing off the worlds most lethal firing arms.

BANG!

Clink...

Ping!

The bullet exited the chamber of the Austrian made Glock 19, before slamming into a metal target that lay about a hundred feet in front of "Icarus". The impact of the bullet caused the object made purely for target practice swing back and forth for several moments, before eventually settling back into a dormant position. A dead on hit, which in a realistic situation would have sent the brain matter of some unlucky bastard spraying against the floor.

Oscar flexed his shoulder muscles, which had grown somewhat tense due to an extended period of secondary weapon shooting practice. He flicked the safety lock into the safe position, before placing the weapon back into the locker. It was a shooting range issue, not one of his own, though nearly identical to his own - equipped simply with a recoil compensator and dual ringed sights. Underbarrel accuracy lasers were becoming increasingly popular among his comrades, though Icarus was more of an old school kind of operator.

Oscar checked his watch. Good. Fifteen minutes until morning briefing. He thought, as the Italian man began making his way to the meeting room that had been assigned to Team 2 "Lavender" for the morning.

 

[Le Marsouin]

"Junior, what did I say about doing that?" Eriko asserted in a stern tone, as the sable mitt ferret gulped after managing to grip a pen on a steel, four-legged desk. The ferret emitted a series of low, feeble squeaks at the woman after taking a swift sight of her hands quickly approaching his little body.

"You cannot be taking things around here, I'm sorry if you're feeling a bit upset right now," The woman quietly responded after managing to scoop Junior in her arms and placing the pen back in its original place. The ferret gave a few squirms before eventually loosening his resistance a minute after giving into the gentle strokes from his owner.

"Hmm... gotta get going, it's jū go until that thing I think," Eriko thought before Junior gave a small whine after eyeing over the golden pocket watch his owner took out for a brief moment.

"Okay, we're going to go, so please be good Junior. They're not like the kōhai you know," Eriko calmly stated while Junior quickly climbed up her vest and decided to reside on her right shoulder. He emitted a slight squeak at the passing soldiers after his owner went out of the small room, though the squeak soon turned into a low noise that resembled a certain clucking sound.

"Urgh... Why are you taking everything like it's the Mokushiroku?! We have plenty of yen after you took some from the senpai!" The Japanese woman thought while Junior twinkled a wink at the Italian man.

 

[Sciencewars]

One turn...

Two turns...

Three turns.

The small laser sight in Mark’s hands clicked together. A small, pinpoint dot showed up halfway across the room. Perfect for his sidearm, even if it didn’t get the most use currently. He never thought of himself as a busy man. Except when he had projects. He liked to get those done.

He pocketed the machine and headed out of the room. He liked the current station. It wasn’t too tight or too big. There wasn’t too much going on, but it wasn’t boring. He got to have alone time. He liked alone time. It gave him time with his thoughts. It gave him time to go on tangents. No matter the time.

It’s hard to tell the time, however. Unless you go outside. Outside of exercises, he didn’t go outside. One less thing to keep track of. Speaking of things to keep track of, there was something going on he had to get to. Apparently.

 

[Salted_Apples]

POV: Isabella Clark

EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION INCOMING

TO: RAINBOW SIX BOARD OF DIRECTORS

Dear Isabella Clark,

Concerning the current state of international terrorist organization status 17 UIP, better known as "The White Masks", police forces and German SWAT teams have been considerably successful in shutting down local recruitment operations and possible hubs for the planning of future attacks.

Despite this, a situation has been developing earlier this morning concerning the previously known organization - as it appears their member has taken over an air traffic control tower in Florence, Italy, and they demand the instantaneous transportation of several jailed terrorists, prisoners, and war criminals that they may or may not have distinct connection to.

Rainbow involvement has been pending towards the Italian government, and due to the successful natures of previous operations concerning members of 17 UIP, and the somewhat questionable re - designation of Italian special forces resources into more politically charged matters.

Hostage count numbers at 31, comprised of employees and civilians visiting respectively. There is likely a higher number, however police forces have not been able to deduce an approximate estimate as of this moment. Intelligence is still attempting to gain more information, however as of this moment, Rainbow Protocol is activated.

Isabella Clark shifted her weight, before looking around the well kept meeting room that so often now laid before here. It wasn't much of a surprise that after the death of her father, John Clark, the organization would be handed over to her . . . this wasn't pure nepotism, either, as she carried much of the traits of her parents - natural born leader, practical, and all that goes along with being the leader of a secretive counter terrorism organization.

She looked around to all the operators that had just filed into the room, before dawning a slight smirk.

"Ladies and gentlemen, get to the transportation bay. We're heading to Italy." Isabella remarked, before sliding copies of the currently relayed information off to all of the currently attending operators that were present in the room - all seeming to carry a mien of silent pride...

 

[Captain Cardboard]

Kaytlynn Connors, the GSUTR soldier known as Aegis, glanced up from making adjustments accepted the copy of the info Isabella handed out in silence. She glanced through it quickly. Italy, huh? Just the word "Italy" brought Kaytlynn back to her childhood, being baby-sat by her Aunt Martina. Growing up being made spaghetti and other Italian food, with Aunt Martina singing Italian folk songs as she cooked. Kaytlynn shook her head. She didn't have to worry. Aunt Martina was still safe at home in England. But with these "White Mask" terrorists running about, who knows how long she might be safe? Kaytlynn hoped that they could figure out how to stop these guys soon.

Kaytlynn looked up from her paper to take a glance around the room at the other operators. These were the people that she was going to be working with. A few Americans, most likely FBI. She didn't recognize anyone that would be from GSUTR. An Italian. But who she really noticed was a young Japanese woman. Was... was that a ferret with her? What sort of a special ops agent had a ferret? Why did she have a ferret?

 

[Mockingchu]

Italy? Noah was in disbelief. A few weeks ago he was down in northern Nigeria getting into firefights with ISWA soldiers.

Now, he was by no means complaining. Italy was a pretty fantastic place. He'd been down to investigate a few links to a possible uprising against the EU when he was a part of MI6. Of course, that wouldn't concern Britain anymore, because, you know, Brexit. It didn't matter anyways. The "uprising" was just some crackpots who were pissed off about taxes and other bullshit. Noah never really actually paid attention to why. He just got information and returned to his superiors, allowing them to act however they saw fit.

Italy, thought... Noah could already smell the pizza. Granted, authentic Italian pizza weren't the meat-filled pies that Britain had. Lots of vegetables and herbs. But the taste didn't matter. In fact, Noah only actually ate the pizza once. Usually he just checked in at a McDonald's or some other crappy joint to eat. The smell was what mattered. The smell of the toasty pizza warmed his heart. And the girls there didn't hurt either. Their accents just hit a special switch inside of Noah. If all of his briefings were led by Italian women, he'd be more inclined to listen.

This time, the briefing was led by a certain Isabella Clark. John Clark's daughter. The "heir to the throne" of Rainbow. What an honor. Noah was genuinely wondering if she deserved it, or if she just got it because of her parentage. She'd need to prove herself for Noah to respect her. Noah respected Noah. And maybe Freddie Mercury. Yeah, Freddie Mercury made the cut. The Beatles too. But that was it.

Oh, and Louis Rothman! Of course. Noah praised that man like he was Jesus Christ himself. Granted, Noah's faith in God was all but gone after all of the crazy shit he'd seen. Louis Rothman was an acceptable substitute for him.

Speaking of Louis Rothman, Noah reached down to the pocket of his black sweatpants. His fingers gripped the reassuring rectangle in his pocket. Just the feel of the box relaxed him. He could almost feel the neatly rolled cigarette hanging from his lips. He took a deep breath, longing for the soothing stream of smoke. Alas, he wasn't supposed to smoke on missions. Hopefully this op would be a quick one. In and out. Complete the mission, stop to smell the pizzas, get back, and watch something on Netflix while tearing through a box of cancer sticks. Ooh, that's what he needed- a new show to watch. Everyone had been recommending Sherlock, maybe he'd try that.

Noah closed his eyes, said a quick prayer that the mission wouldn't take weeks, and opened his file.

31 hostages. Air Traffic Control tower. In. And out.

 

[WingedHussar]

Bruno carefully checked his equipment, right before heading to the meeting room.
Codename Inko, reporting in! - he said as he was entering the room.
...
Bruno read the papers.
31 hostages... Italy... - he whispered.
After a few moments of deep thinking, he began packing his weapons.
I'll take the M4, Glock,
Grenade launcher? No, since this is a hostage situation... Or should I take the shield instead? - he said while he was mounting his rifle attachments.

 

[Salted_Apples]

Oscar "Icarus" Cantanzarite

Oscar sighed, standing up after the dismiss order had been issued. Going home then, Icarus? He thought with a slight smirk, before heading out of the meeting room. He walked down through the now dilapidated halls of Hereford Base, humming as he did so, before walking down towards the Armory. The trained man grabbed his necessary gear, all the while mulling over the information that had just been presented towards him in his constantly active brain.

Flashbangs . . . check.

HK416, ACOG, Silencer, Vertical Grip, check.

Glock 19 . . . check.

BM59 . . . check.

Alright, that should be everything. Icarus thought, exiting the Armory and looking around. It didn't appear there were many other people roaming the corridors - it was pretty early in the morning anyways, the secretaries would likely still be checking in. Oscar began making his way down towards the transportation bay, where a transportation chopper would have likely been prepared for escort into Italian territory - though something about the entire operation really didn't bode well with the originally Italian man. It was likely that by this point the terrorists had commandeered control of the entire air strip - one control tower didn't seem like enough to house an upwards of 31 hostages.

They likely had access to pilots and aircraft as well, all that would be required was cooperation from local police - something that may become an apparent possibility if Rainbow didn't arrive on time, Oscar thought before finally reaching their method of transportation - an American CH-47F Chinook. One hell of a bird, certainly impressive in design and capabilities - though not exactly the most discreet in it's mannerisms, that was certain.

Icarus stepped inside of the large green aircraft, before having a seat and strapping in for the long ride. "Okay, we're going to take a bit of a stop in Bindlacher Airport, before continuing on towards an airfield twenty five miles out. You guys hear?" The pilot stated, preparing his vehicle for take off.

 

[Mockingchu]

"Christ almighty how many stops are we gonna have?" Noah said, elbowing the agent to his right.

All of the operatives on the plane were extremely intimidating, and Noah didn't recognize any of them. The majority of Noah's normal squadron had been slaughtered in Nigeria by quick, gritty guerrilla warfare. So Noah was stuck with these hunks. Luckily, Noah fit right in, what with him stocky build and solid muscles. He hoped he could get a read on the team.

 

[Captain Cardboard]

Kaytlynn boarded the helicopter, grabbing all her essential gear. Most specifically, she grabbed her favorite tool to her trade. Her custom, foldable riot shield. She had put a lot of work into this piece of armor. As of now in it's folded form, it looked more like a strange piece of metal on her forearm. But with a push of a button that piece of metal could extend into a fully-fledged riot shield. Kaytlynn had tested it a bit before she had boarded the helecopter, but had a feeling that it's extending time could be a bit faster. Sure, a helecopter wasn't the best place to make adjustments but it certainly couldn't hurt.

The GSUTR member had just began to fine tune her extendable riot shield when the operative next to her nudged her, saying something like, "how many stops are we gonna have?". Kaytlynn looked the man up and down before just shrugging. She.. wasn't quite sure what to say. Kaytlynn had never really been good at small talk, especially before a mission.
"I... eh... dunno..." Kaytlynn said quietly. Should she try to do small talk? "Have you been to Italy before?"

 

[Mockingchu]

"Italy? Did you say Italy?" Noah tried to call out to the woman over the howling engines, "Yeah, I've been. Love the pizza. And pasta. That sorta stuff."

Noah did a quick check of his gear before they departed. He had his L85A1 rifle slung over his back, atop his fairly bulky kevlar. His thick helmet rested on his lap, alongside his Glock 17 that was secured in its holster on his right leg. Everything was good to go. He wouldn't need much else.

"What about you?" Noah yelled, still battling the noise, "You ever been?"

 

[Salted_Apples]

Oscar "Icarus" Cantanzarite

Oscar glanced over towards the two operators talking, as the Helicopter began to lift off from the transportation bay - no doubt headed towards an airport somewhere in southern Germany to refuel before eventually continuing onto the Italian airspace, without toil, as promised by the government of the country. The now familiar feelings of lifting off were quickly diffusing through Icarus' body, a feeling of his heart almost raising up in his chest - this would have been startling, but the man had done it at least 50 times, so it wasn't exactly an alien sensation.

"Hell of a bird..." He mumbled, as Oscar strapped on his standard issue special operations helmet in preparation for the operation. They would certainly have the high ground, he thought, and if they were going to assault the entire airstrip as speculated in the briefing file - it was going to be a difficult, tedious task. The Italian man checked the ammunition in his German made HK416 assault rifle, 7.62x51 cartridges loaded into it faithfully, ready to blow out the brain matter of some unlucky bastard who fruitlessly clung to the bygone age of political radicalism...

Icarus looked up, scanning over the other operators. An Englishman, a woman who looked, and had the mien decidedly of an American - and then some other operators that he couldn't specifically recognized. He wasn't exactly the most fluent in the complex language of psychology, and so wasn't exactly exceedingly good at reading the specific nationality of many people all at once - that would probably go to the native communicator of the team, Dr. Wechel.

Several hours passed, as the chopper began to set down in a humid southern German refueling station - a mechanics crew quickly exiting the vehicle to begin their work in the remarkably swift nature that they had been trained within. Oscar stayed in place, continuing to observe his surroundings diligently, something that he assumed never wore off after being part of such a prodigious team as Rainbow. Well, to the people who knew about it, that is.

 

[~Aura~Slashz~]

Aw, shoot. When can I frickin' get a break? I've been all across the Atlantic for like 20 weeks! Johnathan thought as he heard the notification to come to Italy. Italy was a nice place, but still, he was a little tired. Johnathan tried not to complain at all. He was going to board the helicopter in a little bit, but he'd first like to prepare. He grabbed his weapons and was ready to board the helicopter. After leaving his room, he boarded the helicopter, seeing some other faces inside the helicopter. Johnathan stayed quiet for now.

 

[Sciencewars]

Italy. Hostage mission. At least 31 hostages, possibly more. Large area, open. Simple, easy hostage rescue. Grab hostages, get out, have lunch. Italian bread is good. Yea.

Thoughts such as these continued as Mark continued to the extraction bay and onto the heli. The halls were blank, with a few doors here and there. There was noise, however. Fake gunshots, yelling, helicopters taking off. The rides were boring, usually. It's probably a good thing the rides are simple and blank. It's probably the only time he wasn't thinking 24/7. Seriously, he had sleep problems because of it.

The missions weren't boring. They weren't supposed to be, of course. Bored means you aren't doing anything, meaning you aren't doing your job properly. And if you don't do your job, people die. So he always did his job. His job? Take whatever problem is causing the others trouble and give it hell. He was the only support a team needed. Be it shooting, stunning, fixing, or rescuing, he did it. He was the backbone of the team, but the kind that was out of they way. He just tried to hold the others up. When all the heroes walk away from the explosion in slow motion, not looking back, he was the one who stayed behind and did the pyrotechnics.

He always got sidetracked, didn't he? It would be easier to focus when he got to the destination.

 

[Salted_Apples]

Oscar "Icarus" Cantanzarite

The refueling process took about 15 to 20 minutes, or atleast that's how Oscar perceived it to be. A repulsive smell of oil drifted through the air, however was just one of the other trivial things that Icarus considered to be among those that he would never forget - the sensations etched so deeply that he could almost feel like he was standing there, in the helicopter, despite being under some kind of warm duvet, little Antonio looking up to him with such curiosity and innocence in his eyes. It was one of the few things in this world that Oscar truly felt obligated to protect with his life. . .

The crew of the Chinook began climbing back in, readying for takeoff. As they did this, Oscar forced himself out of thought - he wasn't paid to be a philosopher, was he? No, the man was paid for something much more physical, something much more concrete. And to him, maybe in a pride fueled sort of manner, saving lives of the innocent was much more important than sitting on your ass and writing existential thoughts into some leather framed tome.

"Alright, ladies and gents, we've got two more hours until we set down in Italy, get your arses ready!" A pilot with a heavy British accent called out, as the doors to the helicopter shut with a soft thump, and it soon began to lift off from the pad, headed towards the supposed final destination.

 

[Mockingchu]

SAIFULLAH NASSAR

"Dove diavolo...?" a hostage muttered, biting down on his lip, "Dove sono loro?"

Saifullah couldn't understand what the man had said, but he had a pretty good guess. It had been quite awhile since the hostages had been taken, and there had been nearly no action against them. Something was strange. Italian Special Forces should have arrived. Or maybe things were different in Italy. Saifullah hadn't the slightest clue. He'd been assigned here, and he made sure to follow orders to a T. Soon, he could start working his way up the chain. Then, he'd be able to go after the strange men who had taken away his brother. He would bring them down the thunder of Allah.

They would perish for their sins.

 

[Captain Cardboard]

"Only once. Went to Rome." Kaytlynn called back to Noah over the rotors. The call fora few hours left went back, and Kaytlynn did a quick check over her gear. Her guns were ready. The laser sight on her pistol worked. She had managed to find time her riot shield as well. She was ready to go. Kaytlynn looked out the window, watching the ground go by.

 

[Mockingchu]

Final Destination. Noah had never quite seen that movie. But he knew the implications. Granted, this "final destination" was merely the final stop before they began their mission, but the thought of perishing hung over his head eerily.

To pass the time, and hopefully forget about his own mortality, Noah closed his eyes, and began to visualize the mission. Just before he could begin, Kaytlynn grabbed a massive machine gun from behind her, stood up, and started spraying bullets at the rest of the operators. The bullets tore through Noah's skin, leaving trails of wispy smoke behind.

As Noah's world began to tilt, so did the plane. They were losing altitude. Fast. The moment the plane hit the water, Noah felt nothing.

A few seconds later, Noah tapped his hand against the solid pavement. He pushed himself up, and glanced around. Italy. Spoleto, Italy- to be precise. He had been here before. He took a deep breath, hoping to smell the calming scent of wine and baking pizza. Instead, he was met by the smell of burning flesh, rusted bullets, earthy soil, and choking smoke.

The buildings melted into the ground, and were built back up to be small trucks and bushes. Right in front of him was a done-in pick-up truck with half of its paint missing. Surrounding him were his friends and allies.

He remembered this. Nigeria.

On the other side of the truck were ISWA fighters, letting all hell loose. Noah had to hunker down with his Rainbow teammates lest they wished for death. A few "brave" souls apparently had, leaping over the truck, trying to take down the ISWA soldiers on their own. The burning flesh smell was from those soldiers who ISWA had taken and burned. Their bodies still hung from stakes in the ground on the other side of the field.

"Ark, Autumn, I need you two to stay here and make sure Gopher doesn't get hurt anymore then he already is," the squadron leader, Slice, yelled over the gunfire, "Creek, you're with me. Split up. We go exactly perpendicular to the ISWA's advancement. Run as fast as you can. When you get far enough away, find a vehicle. You tuck your belt in with the windshield wipers. Arm one of your grenades, but keep it at bay with this."

Slice reached around in his suit and found a roll of duct tape. He was always prepared.

"You drive that sucker right into the ISWA crowd, and dive out. Let them get a taste of their own Hell. Ya hear?" Slice said. Creek, a decorated soldier from Germany, nodded quickly. He bolted out from the cover of the truck, and sprinted like never before.

Slice did the same, but in the opposite direction.

"Ark, stay low," Autumn, one of Noah's closest friends in his squadron, said.

"I know, Autumn," Noah (Ark) said, "I'm not about to get my head blown off."

"No, I mean when I do this stupid-ass thing I'm boutta do, you stay low," Autumn repeated.

"Autumn, what are you gonna-?"

"There's no way Slice and Creek are gonna reach them with the cars. They'll be gunned down from inside the vehicle, and blown up with it. Unless I draw ISWA's fire."

Noah's eyes widened as Autumn took off.

Gunshots shook Noah's body.

No, not gunshots. A bit of turbulence. Noah was awake again, back on the plane. Kaytlynn wasn't tearing through the squadron. All was well. They were setting down in Italy. The Final Destination.

 

[WingedHussar]

Bruno was looking through the aircraft's window and admiring the views. Large cities, lakes, farmlands, mountains, rivers...
This can be the last time I see those gorgeous views... Maybe I won't come back home from this mission... - he whispered to himself.
Italy.. I've been to Italy many times. Eating pizza on the beach, while watching the sunset with family.. Swimming in the Adriatic Sea.. I could even speak italian very fluently.. I think.. Parlo italiano? Whatever. Couple of years ago, I met a beautiful girl in Milan.. - he continued with hope that someone is listening to him.
Enough talking, I can't wait to take down some bad guys - he smiled and started to clean his rifle. It was an ordinary M4, but with an engraving - インコ. What could that mean? And why is it in Japanese?

 

[Mockingchu]

OOC: For those not up to date, Salted_Apples gave me the authority to make sure this RP doesn't go under in their absence. That said, I will be taking the role of Isabella Clark when she's needed. For now, Oscar "Icarus" Cantanzarite is to be operated as an NPC character. Anyone can operate them.

BIC: Noah "Ark" Alders

Noah glanced around, waiting for someone to take charge. He was only a Lance Corporal after all, not ready to lead. But if no one else was...

"Ascolta," a tall man with short, slightly messy black hair and maintained stubble said in a thick, deep Italian accent, "I am Sergeant Major Icarus."

Clearly, Icarus was not his real name. What awful parents would you have to have to be actually named Icarus. But codenames were codenames.

"You all know what is at stake. We have a confirmed 31 hostages. Employees and normal civilians. There is an unknown number of White Masks stronzos in there. Headquarters's best estimate places the number around 12. There's seven of us. Everyone take two. Anyone who doesn't get a second shoots the corpses. Make sure those bastardos are dead. Am I understood?"

Noah grinned slightly, "Sure thing boss. Any plans on how we're getting into the Air Traffic Control base?"

 

[Captain Cardboard]

Kaytlynn exited the helicopter, her M-4 Carbine at the ready. She was prepared to engage the opponent. Walking past on another operator, she couldn't help but to notice that he too had an M-4, and not only that there were some markings on it. Some sort of Chinese? Japanese, maybe? Kaytlynn didn't know, and didn't care. As long as whoever this guy was did his job, she'd be perfectly fine. Kaytlynn surveyed they scene, then walked over to Noah and Icarus. This situation could be brutal, but GSUTR wasn't no summer day either. Aegis was ready.

 

[Mockingchu]

Only a few minutes later, the team was stationed just outside of the airport. Icarus glanced around at his allies, took a deep breath, and gave the signal. He took out a small cylindrical firearm, aimed it at the top of the airport, and fired. A long cord shot out, a hook on the end. The hook sailed onto the roof, limp. Icarus tugged it towards him until it caught onto the edge. He then removed the spool from the chamber and clipped it into his belt. Noah followed suit after launching his own hook. The two scaled the side of the building, motioning for the other to follow.

"Ark, stick by me," Icarus instructed. Noah nodded, crouching as the two operators snuck across the open roof.

"There's no way this works," Noah said, deadpan.

"It needs to," Icarus responded.

The soldiers had reached a long tower that blossomed at the top into the air traffic control base. They had reached the tower.

Icarus placed a hand on the stark white steel. He then knocked against it a few times.

"Here," he stated. The area behind the wall was hollow. Possibly an elevator shaft or a winding staircase.

They needed to make a hole in the wall. Without making a sound.

 

[WingedHussar]

"Inko" got out of the aircraft and followed the group.
"So the local army didn't manage to control the situation" - he said.
"It's probably a really big threat. We have limited intel. Maybe they have a bomb? Like in Bartlett..." - he continued
...
After reaching the control tower, Bruno found himself in front of a metal wall.
"Has anyone got a torch? Or maybe a drill?" - he asked. Whatever was behind that wall, it looked like a fastest route to hostages. But it could also be the most dangerous one. While Inko was rummaging through his backpack, he realized that he forgot his recon drone
"Darn, I forgot to bring the drone. If no one has the right tool to cut through this wall, we need to find another way in." - he said

 

[Salted_Apples]

Dr. Sebastian Bennett

The phone resting on it's receiver suddenly jolted to life, ringing profusely and destroying the peaceful silence that had once inhabited the official office of psychologist Dr. Sebastian Bennett. He flinched slightly to the sudden amount of audio, before raising a hand to pick it up and answer, suddenly awake from the endless swamp of paperwork that he had been so deeply entrenched in prior to the inquiry of the communication device.

"Dr. Bennett here." The psychologist said, leaning the phone onto his shoulder as he leaned forwards to finish a sentence he had been writing on a report regarding his negotiations on a previous mission within Sydney. The team deployed was lucky to escape alive, and even though it was technically a success, the counterterrorism organization had been shaken as a whole.

"Sebastian, we have a situation. It's UIP - 17 again, and they've got a control tower at Scirgud Airport in Italy. They may even have more, but, well - okay, we're sending down a copy of the briefing document your way. Apparently you're probably not gonna be sent on scene, but Isabella saw it fit to have you aware of the scenario anyways." The familiar voice of the main secretary for Isabella Clark flickered from the phone.

"Alright, thank you, Kate. Get that briefing doc down here as soon as possible." Sebastian Bennett said, placing the phone right back down into the receiver. Taking the end of his pen, he punched in onto several of the pressure sensitive keys, in the designated order for another number for one of his associates.

"Paul Bellow on the line."

Oscar "Icarus" Cantanzarite

Icarus quietly swore under his breath, looking around the roof of the tower that he stood on. There were armed men with a passion for conflict, innocent hostages, and probably plenty more for him to deal with right below his combat boots - but his biggest worry was actually completing the mission at hand.

"Okay, Ark -"

The distinct crackle of gunfire echoed through the air, interjecting the sentence that Icarus was about to address the British man with. Oscar immediately ducked down out of instinct. His tactical radio that was cradled on his vest crackled to life as he frantically scanned around the airfield for the source of the sudden shots.

"Icarus, Ark, hold position! Do not engage hostiles inside of the control tower, I repeat, do not engage enemies inside of the control tower!" Major Neil Bentley yelled frantically into the radio, the voice coming clearly out of the other end and right into the ears of the operators stationed on top of the tower. Several agonizing moments of silence entrenched the area, before screams rang throughout the atmosphere.

"We've got confirmed bad guys in Lobby A - 2! They've got hostages in there, too - I want all available marksmen on standby!" Bentley sounded through the radio again.

Oscar turned frantically towards Noah, checking the magazine within his German made assault rifle. "If we're gonna wanna get in there, we have to do a death from above maneuver, amico. Call in to Bentley, I'll focus on covering our asses."

(OOC - Also, you can control Bentley - he's an NPC and not my character.)

 

[Mockingchu]

"Death from above?" Noah raised an eyebrow, "Did you mean the only acceptable form of death?"

"This is serious, Ark," Bentley growled, "We need explosives primed around a 5000 square foot perimeter. Right above Lobby A - 2."

Noah closed his eyes, visualizing the blueprint they had been given to study of the airport. A - 2 wasn't far.

"Three of you will prepare to breach A - 2 from above. The quickest-thinking above you. You will have a few seconds to identify all UIP - 17 members. Should be seven. You mow down those bastards before they have time to recover from the shock. The other three of you will focus on getting up to the top of that tower."

"Sir, we were just working on a way to do that. Not sure we have many options," Noah stated.

"Find a way. One of you has got to have something," Bentley said.

 

[Salted_Apples]

Oscar "Icarus" Cantanzarite

Oscar, though diligent in his surveillance of the surrounding area, managed to divert a fraction of his attention towards the conversation developing between Noah and Major Bentley. The ultimate fruitlessness of this conversation cause Icarus to grunt in frustration, briefly turning his head to look towards Ark.

"Is anything progressing? We need to move before these guys whack a hostage, okay? Just tell Bentley to hurry it the hell up." Oscar said quickly, as he swiveled his head back towards his rifle, and staring through the scope mounted securely onto the top rail. These bastards aren't going to hesitate... The Italian man thought anxiously, once again taking a nervous glance back towards the form of Noah. Operational uneasiness was beginning to slowly grasp Icarus, an aspect of the job that never really fully disappeared no matter how experienced a soldier was, and this aspect was something that Oscar had accepted long ago. This did not mean, however, he did not attempt to suppress it the best he could - and so the battlefield was now divided between mental and physical struggling.