Operation Nightshrike: Black Ops on Seltos (Fringe vs Protectorate)

[Nyos Val]

Nyos's speed was picking up slightly when he scored a hit on the soldier. The soldier rolled over as the other set of shots Nyos had fired were about to reach him. As the soldier fired, the cyborg didn't want to lose ground going around the blast, so he jumped over it, coming down clumsily. He rolled to his feet awkwardly and swung his obtained rifle firing full auto at the fallen soldier. He knew it wasn't going to kill him outright unless it hit vital points or spots he'd hit before.

Working his way, more like stumbling, toward the enemy. He dropped to a knee just meters from the armored man. Rifle one handedly aimed, he was ready if the man fired again.


@[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

@[member="Nyos Val"]

The blaster bolts from the cyborg spattered uselessly against my Katarn-class armor. The impact was like getting punched by a twelve year old. It hurt, but not too bad. If I were breaking the fourth wall I would probably say that his absurdly bad aim was due to the guy's blatant disregard for my concussion pistol fire.

I fired four more shots at the cyborg, aiming for his legs.

 

[Nyos Val]

Nyos dug his feet into the ground and jumped, but this time, the shots hit well enough to 'sweep the leg'. They flipped and flopped him on the ground, on his stomach only feet away from the soldier. Luckily the rifle was still intact and had a few rounds left. He used the ground to steady his aim and fired all but one shot...aimed right for the pistol and hand of its owner. After he fired, he raised himself to his knees, sitting back on them, exhausted. The fight had taken a lot out of him, and now he was ready to end it. His cybernetic eye locked onto the pistol in the off chance his shots were dodged this close. His last round would be for the ammo packs on his belt/bandolier. His off hand held his now re-drawn vibrosabre in case he needed to start hacking at the mans armor. The man had been shot in the shoulder, cut in the side, punched in the ribs, shot all over his back(mind the armor) and shot in the back of the knee. The 'man' had to be feeling as bad as Nyos both felt and looked. Now that he was missing pieces of metal, sharp edged, fractured fingers. Along with a bad rotor in his shoulder, internal damage, and a headache. The saber, if needed if unsuccessful in disarming the man, would go for the neck, underarms and head. Immobilization is key to stopping an attacker.

@[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

Those guards hadn't seen him coming. They hadn't seen the bullets either. That was okay, though, because now they were dead and it was the least of their problems. Hannibal felt just a little bit bad about killing a bunch of mooks like that. They probably hadn't done very much wrong. They all had families or something. Maybe a dog. Oh, Force. Who was going to take care of their pets? Poor things would probably starve to death if the Omegans weren't timely in notifying their relatives. Wait. What if they didn't have relatives to notify? What if their pets were all they had!? How many Ropos had Hannibal just condemned to slow, uncomfortable deaths?!

If only there was some way he could get his mind off this spiraling guilt trip.

The door in front of him slid open, revealing a room loaded up with Phrikite that was ready for transport off planet. A startled factory laborer whirled around, eyes wild with terror. Hannibal wasn't completely heartless. This guy wasn't even armed. "Scram, Copernicus."

He obliged, scrambling past Hannibal and running for his life. If there was one thing that could occupy his thoughts instead of the potential ramifications of slaughtering mostly-innocent Protectorate personnel, it was a room full of Phrikite he was free to pilfer to his heart's content.

 

[Marcus Tritum]

As a matter of fact, I felt a sight worse than the cyborg. Probably because cybernetics don't hurt as much as ribs when you break 'em. Fractured ribs, broken shoulder, blasted in the back of the leg. The only thing left was for someone to dump a pile of steaming bantha droppings on me and the operation would be officially FUBAR... or at least I would be.

The pain left me feeling dazed and numb. Slow. On some level the wounds didn't really register much, see. Then the cyborg hostile shot me again. I don't think people appreciate how truly hard it is to shoot the gun out of somebody's hand. Well, the first bolt hit me on the forearm plate, didn't do much but singe the arm underneath. I raised the forearm further and the second shot smacked into the forearm plate as well. Ow, that burned. I grunted.

I raised my pistol and fired a shot at his face. The concussion round would blow his head clean off if it hit. I doubted even he could survive that. Then again, I expected he was just going to jump around and improbably dodge it. I used the time to unhook a thermal detonator from a special cylinder at my back, same type Stormtroopers wore. Class C Thermal Det. I activated the thing with a flip of a switch and held my hand on the release button.

Cyborg or no, a thermal detonator's blast was basically a mini-nuke. If he was within the radius when it went off he'd be real dead. There was no count down while I held it, but if I let go it would go off in three seconds. I held it out where he could see. Hopefully, he would back off from the threat of mutually assured destruction.

"Stand down," I rasped.

@[member="Nyos Val"]

 

[Nyos Val]

Nyos was able to brace as the shot was fired, taking the brunt of it to the body, tumbling heels over head backwards. About five meters away he flopped onto his back and rolled slowly, achingly up to a slouched seated position. The armor he had been wearing was cracked like glass and was now useless.He was able to sit up enough to see the soldier holding a thermal detonator primed by his head. Nyos shifted the rifle as to appear to be propping himself up, barrel pointed out towards his target and synced it to his cybernetic eye. He ran a targeting algorithm on the primed detonator. He raised his off hand, holding up the saber as a distraction, a fake surrender. No expression crossed his face as he received a point to point transmission in his replaced ear, from the compound, they had a sniper trained on the soldier.

Sir this is Angel One Actual, we have a shot on the target. Are we clear?

Nyos sighed and dropped his blade, a silent signal to the sniper team and visual signal to the soldier of his continued fake surrender, emotionless, maybe a twinge of pain scolled across his face as a loud, CRACK rang out from nowhere at the soldier. The 30x45mm explosive round aimed for the soldiers chest. A two meter casualty radius should ensure the demise of the soldier. At five meters, Nyos would be within the less lethal blast radius but it would still feel like a kick in the chest from a tauntaun.

@[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

(ooc: Bringing in NPC help from out of the blue isn't just bad form, it's powergaming. Cave Johnson; we're done here."

I saw a flash in the distance. Heard a crack. Something hit me in the chest. Felt like a rancor. I sprawled out on the grass, knocked clean out.

I only know what happened next from the after action report and from what my unit told me.

Apparently, at the same moment as the sniper fired his shot a Sekairo-class stealth transport materialized out of the air overhead. The massive ship opened up with its anti-personnel blasters and concussion missiles. That's some pretty heavy suppression fire if you ask me. My boys had gone back to the rally point, met up with extract, then come back for me. Two of 'em used repulser packs to jet down and grab my limp form. I don't know what happened to the cyborg. Hopefully he got caught in the suppression fire.

When I woke up next I was submerged in a bacta tank back at the capital. They said the mission had been a success, but I'd been injured pretty bad. I was just glad I got out of there alive.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

Hannibal hefted another crate loaded with phrikite into the huge delivery speeder. Prior to this, he had locked the door to the garage. Even if the silly little Omegans running around the place were aware enough to send security, they'd be delayed long enough by the door. This left Hannibal plenty enough time to not only pilfer a few crates of phrik, but a pretty nifty, armored delivery speeder as well. Only the sturdiest stuff to transport some high-quality phrik.

Phrik now destined for Fringe hands. Nothing felt quite as good as sticking it to some Protectorate goons.

Last crate Hannibal was willing to take on board and his cybernetics whirring from the effort, Hannibal slammed the heavy, durasteel doors of the landspeeder closed. Cargo secure. Time to bounce from this joint and meet up with evac. With any luck, these goofs wouldn't know he was gone until it was too late. Hannibal hopped into the cockpit, interfacing with the speeder's hardware seamlessly through his PsiCom interface. He shut off the GPS and started his new ride. Engines thundered as the speeder sprung into activity.

The Fondorian gripped the wheel, his knuckles turning white with desire. At Hannibal's urging, the repulsorlifts thundered to life, shooting the massive speeder forward. The vehicle smashed through the gates of the mining facility, exploding down the road like a flare slug from a Czerka 836. True death: Hannibal soaring down the highway in one giant-ass, armored landspeeder loaded down with phrik.

He'd call it Black Sunshine.