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RP: 4th Fleet (NSN) [Mission 6] Side-story : Lead Chorus

"HA!" Lisa said to Zyv and pulled her tongue at him. She took another beer and then smirked. "I am still better shot then you mr. medic. You are just jealous, because I know how to fave fun." She added and licked her lip, before she turned away from him and went to were Corporal was chastising the new blood.

"Diddly's still diddly corporal," Lisa butted in. She picked up a Styrling Auto 12 and turned back to Morris. The gun was loaded with large 30 round helical magazine. "How about firing a lot of fuck you instead?"
 
Max looked on and saw that the other marines were unwinding. It seemed some sort of challenge flag had been dropped in the range. The other marines were busy trying to one up each other and having a blast doing it. Max felt that it was only fitting to join in the competition. He picked up his M2 Rifle and traded the 30 round max for a 50 round drum magazine.

"Firing a whole lot of fuck you sounds like a wonderful idea" interrupted Max in response to Lisa's comment. He raised his rifle flipping the switch to full auto and aiming down range. "Fun time" said Max in a rather child like excited tone before unleashing a torrent of rounds down range laughing semi-manically the whole time.

It only took a few seconds to blow through the drug mag. "It's days like this I love being a marine!" joked Max as he went to load in another DM.
 
- ‘I know how to have fun.’

Zyv replied even as Simmons moved on to bother Henry and looked to the nearest marine for confirmation.

- ‘Right?’

Not really caring for the reply he picked up the CQB, slammed the magazine into the weapon; loaded a round into the chamber and switched the safety off. A brief moment to get his aim in and he fired a quick succession of slugs. Satisfied he punched the button recalling the target, making the weapon safe as he waited.

Taking the target down he frowned at his work; instead of the smiley face he had wanted the smile came out lopsided. Frown firmly in place he discarded the target and made his way to the ordnance table, liberated another can of beer, drank half in one draught before picking up some of the grenades and making his way to the grenade pit.

Pulling the pin free he pulled his hand back.

- ‘Grenade!’

Warning given he lobbed the hand bomb down the range where it reduced some of the targets to scrap, but safe in the knowledge that the only way any marine would get hurt was if they were dumb enough to walk into the pit during training.

Zyv nodded as he drank some more beer, no matter what blowing stuff up was always fun.
 
Another Marine arrived at the range, looking around constantly until he spotted Henry. The man was distinguishable by his red scarf, unkempt hair and manly facial hair. Those were also all of the identifiers this messenger had received.

He carried with him a large suitcase, locked and sealed, that only he had the key to. His specific instructions were to deliver the package and its key to Corporal Morris. No one else was to even know what it was if they questioned him, by order of the Grand Admiral.

If Corporal Morris chose to share the details of what he was up to, that was his business.

Crisply, the P1C stepped in front of Henry and saluted. "Senior Corporal Morris, with compliments from Admirals Valken and Ironside," he extended the suitcase after lowering his salute.
 
Lisa crouched herself as the grenade was thrown. It was probably safe, but she did not want to catch a schrapnel. The explosion sounded pretty cool and grinned happily as she got back on her feet.

"Haha, nothing like a wind from an explosion dancing through your heair," She said and ran her hand through her hair to make a point. She then looked at Zyv and smiled. "Not that you will ever find out baldie!" She said and laughed again.

Lisa looked around. It seemed that everyone was having a good time. But there were people missing. Most of people who were not there did not need to unwind that much. Laura was fine, she was probably playing somewhere.

Lisa was reminded of one particular marine that needed to unwind a lot. And among his comrades, since letting him among other proofed to be dangerous as he set a person on fire. Bastilen was not around. Lisa reached for her Datajockey.

Code: 
"To: Bastilen Wreno
From: Blonde Bombshell

Hey you butt,

get your butt here. We are in the HQ firing range and I figure you could use some relaxation time. Nothing is more relaxing then shooting a gun at something that does not shoot back. So hurry up and come. You need to bolster your bond with your comrades or some shit.

Lisa Simmons.

P.S. I am corporal now by the way so really, move your well shaped buttocks  and get down here!
 
Punching the button to call up new targets in the grenade pit Zyv looked down where he started preparing the next grenade for deployment. On hearing Lisa’s taunt, however, he put the hand bomb down (after making sure it was safe) and turned to the loud marine with an extremely serious face, taking off his hat with hand while gliding the other over his freshly shaved skull.

- ‘You’re just jealous, Simmons, as you would never be able to pull off this look.’

That said Rakowski allowed a smirk to appear on his face to show he was joking before turning back to his grenade.
 
Expending the last round from her Longshot, Phaedra ejected the empty casing and then set the rifle down on the nearby table.

Phaedra turned toward the large rifle case she had brought in earlier and popped the latch. She began assembling the weapon from its dismantled pieces, the W3301 slowly taking shape. Phaedra set the large weapon up on the bipod and bolted it to the ground.

Laying prone behind it, she loaded in a 40mm three-round magazine and flipped open the integrated DataJockey to double check her settings. At the far end of the range was what appeared to be the hull of a tank of some type. Phaedra had no idea how they were able to bring it inside the range, but she felt it would be the perfect target for her weapon.

She turned off the laser guided function, preferring to fire the weapon manually. Phaedra exhaled a breath as she looked through the scope at her target. Then she pulled the trigger.

BOOM!

The 40mm round exploded spectacularly against the armored hull, chunks of metal cascading down onto the floor of the range.

The weapon's report was incredibly loud, and Phaedra was thankful for the padded stock of the weapon due to the recoil. She pulled back on the action to eject the spent 40mm casing and moved another round into the chamber.

"I forgot how much I like this weapon..." thought Phaedra with a smirk.
 
The small A.I. jar occupying Bastilen's time had far stabilized since the work he had performed on it. He had, however, disconnected the wiring to the holographic projector. The formerly rampant A.I. system had begun to bend back towards control, and stopped creating false data in response to his attempts to fix the personality issues. Coding on this magnitude, though, was stressful if one couldn't find the errors. Luckily, most of the major things were obvious, but minor bits that could trip the system up and cause a crash were minute one-character errors. Searching through this kind of thing was his specialty.

Blits blits, blits blits!

His DataJockey began to signal a new message was avaiable. So he set down his tools and brought it up to check. He stared at the message for a moment, his face slowly bending inward into a frown. Yet, before he could really deny the message, he noticed the sender pull the small amount of rank she had on him. The urge to deny it even further went down, but the chemical treatment in his head fired his pistons in the other way. Before he knew it, he already had his response tacked down on the pad.

Code: 
To: Lisa Simmons
From: Bastilen Wreno

Wilco, ETA 10 minutes, out.
The Tech Expert's mouth went a little flat. He killed people for a living, why did he need to practice that? It didn't matter. Orders were orders, and he needed to report. He began to clean up his work space, and set the A.I. offline so it couldn't manifest any problem coding while he was gone. Then, he went to his locker at the edge of armor bay and shucked most of the equipment inside. From that same container he tugged out his .357 and his loaded axe. He holstered the pistol and slide the axe handle into the sheath, making sure both safeties were on.

Then, with a bit of contempt poisoning the bottom of his heart, he began to trudge on to the gun range.
 
Watching with a chuckle growing in his throat at the jokes being tossed between Zyv and Lisa, he dropped the now empty magazine from the HPAR as he observed the now decimated targets down range. His attention was drawn to the explosion of the grenades Zyv had launched down range into the pit. A simply beautiful sight in the Marine's opinion, as nothing beat the sight of the raining debris. Even if the debris in this case was a bit of targets and some dirt.

Setting the HPAR back on the table, he eyed a duo of .357 SMG's and slapped a high capacity magazine into each weapon's magazine well before lifting the weapons with straightened arms and gave the triggers a squeeze as the two SMG's burped a hail of .357 HP rounds down range. All the while, Aleksei clenched the cigar between his teeth despite the grin that covered his face.
 
As Henry was waving the ESG to cool its components and assess how much the barrel had been warped by the heat of the bullets going through it, the messenger had gotten his attention. He put the hot weapon down and turned to the messenger.

Henry's eyes darted down to the suitcase, then back up to the messenger and the key in his other hand. He had gotten the message shortly before the Dauntless was destroyed - but the sour memory had derailed his train of thought in regards to this little project that the Grand Admiral had commissioned for him.

"Thank you," He replied as he took the suitcase and the key, putting it into his pocket, "send them my regards." He placed the suitcase down by his legs and the key in his pocket as the messenger ran onto another task.

He kept the suitcase near his booth, and searched the weapons table for a shotgun chambered in 23mm slugs. One of these was rated to take down power armour and light aircraft in flight - say nothing of soft targets. He carried the weapon and a brace of heavy cartridges back to where he'd left the suitcase, loaded it, gave it a pump and took aim at a dummy that wasn't pulverised already.

The pulverised part was rectified with one shot - projectile drop accounted for.
 
Lisa did wait those 10 minutes patiently with another beer in her hand. She busied herself with loading spare magazines for other. Then finally Bastilen arrived. She smiled and waved at him.

"Hey there Wreno, took you long enoug." She said and tossed him a beer. "drink and relax, that is an order. Seriously you should try to fit in, or rather try to learn more about people who are covering your butthole. At least while you are not busy setting sailors on fire or something."
 
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