Factory Blues

[Jiang Winters]

[OOC: Join me. Kill shit. Help advance Chap's plot. Earn new shit for your character in the process. Oh, and blow things to kingdom come. For teh lulz. ]

"Miller!"

Chapman rounded the Puma and, wielding his helmet in his left hand, delivered a loud smack to the vehicle's roll cage. Miller yelped in shock and shot upright in the passenger seat, hands scrabbling for his rifle. "I'm up, I'm up!"

"Really? Because you looked pretty asleep a few seconds ago," Chap replied, grinning.

"Very funny, old man. Why'd you wake me? The Redguards finally rear their ugly heads? Need me to hop on the fifty and rattle some brain-buckets?" the energetic Corporal replied.

Chap shook his head. "Nothing like that. I need you to shut up and listen."

Miller stood up and cupped his ear. After a moment, he sat down on top of the roll bar dividing the passenger seat from the driver seat. "I got nothin', bossman."

"It's the fighting," the sergeant replied, "It's close. Real close."

Chapman and his cronies had holed up in an abandoned factory complex on Metellos. Members of the Metellos Security Force, they'd been forced to seek cover there when they and their under-armored Puma scout car were caught in the middle of a massive gang war. With armored cars and ramshackle tanks being flung into battle between two gangs, the Redguards and the Gray Angels, they were cut off from their home precinct and had no way of getting out.

To make matters worse, their radio was shot and they had no way of raising dispatch to let them know that they were stranded. They were stuck in the middle of a battleground with limited supplies and no hope of receiving reinforcements. It was still light outside, though; they had about an hour and a half of daylight left. After that they could try to slip out under cover of darkness. The trick was surviving for that hour and a half.

Chap keyed his radio. "Dom, Rico. What's it look like out there?"

He'd sent the two Privates to the top of the factory's central structure. It was a ten-story steel and concrete structure, with massive workshops on each floor used for everything from machining parts to smelting steel. They'd posted up on the south part of the roof, where they had a view of the fighting to the south of their position.

"Dom here. Fightin's bad. I count twenty flame-ups, easy. Mostly Lancets. Looks like the Redguard's Lancaster took 'em out. The shit's coming our way tho. The Lancaster is limping back and it's pouring smoke out of its rear engine compartment. Looks like it lost its main gun, too. It's got a couple Lancets as an escort. They're shot up pretty badly."

A Lancaster was a type of heavy tracked truck used to transport massive industrial components. It had four track pods; two on the front, two on the rear. The Redguard had taken some of the 20-meter long trucks and armored them up, fitting the bed with a steel pillbox armed with a pair of 12.7MM twin machine gun turrets and some manner of heavy cannon in a central turret. It could take a tremendous beating, so anything that could hurt it was bad news to Chapman and his outfit. Lancets, on the other hand, were cheap four-wheeled sedans that had their roofs slashed off and a light machine gun mated to a simple pintle mount in the back, turning it into a fast and expendable gun platform.

Chapman cursed under his breath when he heard of the force incoming. "How much time do we have?"

"They gotta cross S693, that big six-lane freeway. After that, it's a straight shot down Amber Street, then a sharp left and down 12th and they'll be knocking at our door. They're doing about 30 right now, so I give 'em... Eh, five minutes, since they're gonna have to slow way the hell down on Amber or reroute. It's been blasted pretty bad."

"Grab Rico and get back down here." He turned to Miller and snatched up his T8 Assault Rifle. "Get on the gun, Miller. Looks like we've got company coming."

The medic grinned from ear to ear and immediately swung himself across the roll-bar and into the Puma's bed. "Aw yeah! Time for a good ol' shoot-'em-up!" he whooped.

Chapman sighed and shook his head, muttering, "It's gonna be a long kriffing day."

It was going to be a miracle if they survived the incoming mess of vehicles; the old production hall they'd set up shop in, with its thick cinderblock walls and sturdy steel roofing, would be a tempting refuge for the wounded Lancaster and its escort, just as it'd been a tempting refuge for Chap and his misfits. Their backs were against the wall - it was too late to run. Their only chance was to stand and fight, then beat feet out of the vicinity the moment they'd shot up or blown up the Redguard vehicles.

Assuming, of course, that they didn't get shot up in the process.

 

[Ender]

((I think it looks more like a warthog, IMO))

Ah hell! Can't I get some peace anywhere!?! Shale thought angrily, slamming himself into a wall as a firefight broke out. His MX-49 Carbine in his arms, he took a peek over the top. He counted a lot of hostiles. He ducked back down, sliding a datapad out of his messenger bag. The maps showed an old factory not too far from here, maybe he could find some shelter there. Suddenly, a gang member hopped over the wall, and spotted Shale. Shale looked up, somewhat surprised as his opponent charged towards him with a knife. Shale lazily raised his Carbine and loosed a short burst into the gang banger's stomach. The man tripped forward, smashing his skull into the wall next to Shale. "Try again." he muttered, moving off towards the Factory.

 

[Rom]

(No, it's a chupa-thingy.)

Looking out from the roof of a bombed out apartment building, Raynor Cree and Cnile Mengele watched as the district slowly started to fall apart. Blasterfire could be seen and heard coming from all directions, and the war cries of gangs and the screams of the civilians caught between them filled the air. The two Jedi had been in-system on a mission to solve a simple diplomatic dispute over trade between Metellos and it's sister planet across the system. Upon finishing their negotiations on Metellos however, the Jedi had been informed by the local government of a large gang war kicking up in a civilian populated area of the city. Already the Security Forces had lost contact with one of their patrol teams and apparently did not want to take the risk of sending in another team, instead devoting their resources to containing the war from spreading into the other parts of the city and planning a crackdown. Fearing for the lives of civilians, his Master had offered to go into the zone to offer what protection and aid she could, and Raynor had refused to be left behind.

Unsheathing the sword magnetized to his back at the repeated salvos of blaster fire echoing around the war torn city, Raynor looked over in envy at his master's own humming lightsaber, knowing that his own skills were not yet high enough to earn him the right and ability to wield one. Still, after having taken his pick of the weapons he had found on the bodies of dead gang members littering the streets, he was satisfied. Equipped to his belt was an M6-D, a powerful slugthrower he had picked up alongside several fragmentation grenades and one thermal detanator he had to beg Cnile to allow him to grab. As always, Raynor also carried the cortosis-weave vibrosword he usually left sheathed across his back and the metal barb affixed to the end of his long tail. The barb had been coated in a special formula of mixed herbs he kept in a small compartment on his belt that caused paralysis. While wearing the regular uniform of the Jedi, under his light brown and beige tunic and pants trimmed with dark green, Raynor had a policy of always wearing his leather armor under the clothes while on a mission

Following his Master's lead, the Padawan leaped off of the roof to land on a balcony a few stories down before jumping to the roof of another building. Their comms had briefly picked up the messages of a security force holed up within the large factory complex dominating the horizon, and the Master/Padawan team had agreed that it was the best spot to rally a defense at, hoping other civilians would know that the factory could potentially be a place of safety. Coming out of a roll as the two lightly landed on the street leading towards the factory, Raynor turned his head towards Cnile and muttered loud enough for her to hear him over the sounds of chaos engulfing the city district, "Master, this one haz a bad feeling about this."

 

[Neo Shark]

He’d gotten the itch again. Ever since leaving the force a few years back, he’d find himself getting antsy after a while. Kinda like things weren’t right or unnatural. Eventually, he’d pack his stuff and move onto some other planet or town until he found something to peak his interest. Usually, it involved combat of some sort or another. That would explain why he’s on Metellos, but it doesn’t explain why he’s in the path of a gang war.

“Kriff! When will I ever learn?! I should just find a nice place to hole up and live the rest of my days. But nooo, I have to wander around and find some fresh bit of violence to get caught up in. I always end up getting caught up in something I shouldn‘t.”

Tej had managed to find himself a room on the third story of a small apartment complex. The room looked like it had been abandoned for a while, the curtains were ratty and the only bit of furniture was a shoddy table. Looking out the window he had a straight line of sight to the oncoming gang with a large abandoned factory to his south east. He had line of sight to most of the area surrounding the factory with a few areas blocked by buildings.

Unhooking his SC20K from its chest strap he set it down within easy reach, and then reached over to unlimber his Longshot from his back. Luckily he’d been wandering around kitted out in his “everyday” load-out, meaning he had a little bit of everything but not a lot of anything. Pulling the table over to the window he began setting items on the table; a couple dozen sniper ammo, mostly armor piercing with a few SABOT rounds, 3 clips for his rifle, 3 grenades for the 40mm grenade launcher attachment, and lastly the shotgun attachment for the SC20K.

With everything in place he stepped out of the room to take one last precaution before setting up in the window.
“Well, I guess there’s nothing left to do now but wait. Hopefully these guys will just pass right on by.”

 

[Corvis]

Cnile's nose wrinkled against the sulfuric smell of the outdated weapons firing. Wafting through the city amidst the ear rattle rapport of the weapons that caused them. It never ceased to amaze her how thin the line was between war and peace, and how easily it was crossed. Considering what she'd seen over her years since joining the Order, one would have expected her to approach galactic society with a more cynical outlook, but as evidenced by her lack of armour and the sole armament of a lightsaber she had more faith in society that it earned.

She glanced over at her Padawan as the paused on the roof of a crumbling apartment building. He was very much the anti-thesis of her, his cold reptilian eyes easily accepting the easy with which the galaxy around him devolved into conflict. And he so easily adapted to, from the constant presence of his leather armour to his eagerness to arm up. She chuckled to herself, thinking about his fervor over gaining his thermal detonator. She hadn't told him that she wouldn't let him use it against a living being. Explosives of that grade had other uses.

Not that she didn't have to fight a lust for battle herself. She glanced down at her lightsaber, already ignited. She could think of a few choice Masters would admonish her for igniting the weapon before she was ready to use it, but she'd long since learned that it's silverly light would take the fight out of most beings before it had begun. The galaxy would make warriors of the Jedi yet.

Gazing over the burning cityscape, she spied their objective, a factory complex screened by billowing clouds of smoke. She couldn't agree with her Padawan more, but there were more demanding concerns as of now. “Do not focus on your anxieties, Raynor. Keep your attention focused on the hear and now.”

 

[Jiang Winters]

[School's done kicking my ass. I'm baaaaack! <3]

The Lancaster tore down the street at a good 50 kilometers per hour. The two Lancet cars chased along either side of it, their gunners pivoting their twin 7.62 light machine guns to scan for targets at gunpoint. Navigating the streets had been easy for them; whatever they couldn't skirt they'd simply rammed out of the way, and the Lancets followed through the hole the Lancaster made for them.

The convoy slowed down as it neared the factory complex, then came to a complete halt at the gates. The complex was surrounded by a two foot thick reinforced concrete wall; too thick for even the Lancaster to try to just ram through, and the gates were 10-foot tall durasteel. A quick swipe of a plasma cutter from the Lancaster's tool kit took out the gate's locking system, and a nudge from a Lancet's bumper shoved them open and allowed the group inside.

"C'mon! It's clear!" shouted the lead Lancet's driver, a white-haired human kid barely into his twenties. He gunned it and sent his car hurtling into the compound. The Lancaster rumbled along behind him, with the last Lancet taking up the rear.

Inside, Chapman and his crew prepped for a fight. Weapons were double-checked, defensive positions assumed, and a rocket launcher was passed off to Dom, who scurried up on top of a catwalk to give himself a clean line of fire on whatever vehicle broke in. Meanwhile, Chap tried his hand-held radio again in an effort to call for help. "This is Sergeant Chapman of the Metellos Security Force to any law enforcement forces in the area. We're pinned down in the Harvak Foundry Complex by freeway Sierra Six Niner Three. We've got a Lancaster heavy truck bearing down on us, loaded to the gills with machine-guns and artillery, with scout cars acting as escort. We need assistance fast - my Puma's fifty cal isn't going to do much against these guys."