[Prologue] Hitting Home

The Roughest, the toughest, the Galactic Marines. Set in a world where peace is more prevalent than war, the Marines are here to ensure that the status quo does not get flipped around. taken from the best and brightest of every race in the United Galactic republic, the Marines will sacrifice everything to keep the peace they have fought for through generations.
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Straken
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Re: [Prologue] Hitting Home

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"We're alive, 'nd they ain't," Cormac shouted back. His arm was searing pain from fingertip to shoulder, his head was feeling light, and the heavy spin was making him feel faint. "Ah know you were expectin' simple peace time patrols, but THIS IS WHAT MARINES DO."

Trying to push himself up, Cormac found that his body was officially past it's limit. "So... iffen ya think ya can do better... this is your opportunity, mate..."
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Mr. Blackbird Lore
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Re: [Prologue] Hitting Home

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"Skip, Dhal!"

"On it!" shouted a soft male voice and the two marines nearest to the cyclone of metal and madness leaped into the open backside of the transport as it came around. Maglock boots secured them nicely, but one still lost his balance as the world tried to sweep out from under him. That same soft voice, Dhal, had sprained an ankle in the daring venture. Nothing serious, but enough to slow him down. The pair sank low and began an awkward shuffle, like a crab, but with very short steps so as not to risk the wrath of inertia.

They came to the pair of snared marines and each freed one: Skip claimed Cormac and Dhalsim took Niall. The latter was a greater pain, as the young marine had found a way to entangle himself with a corpse, like a lover's final desperate embrace. He did come free, though. Then came the awkward return trip, crab shuffling while clinging to another mass that wanted to keep moving athwart their destination. "We got 'em, Enny," said Skip, "But this is gonna be rough, for all of us."

"Think we should just turtle," Dhal suggested. "Hit our backs and let the armor do its best."

"Agreed. In 3, 2, 1, JUMP!" Two heavily clad marines vaulted from the transport with their precious cargo in a bear hug and spun mid-air to place the thick shell of their armor to the ground. Both grunted as it knocked the wind from them. The rest of the team moved to intercept and hopefully stop or slow their grinding.
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Kai
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Re: [Prologue] Hitting Home

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Niall's witty retort was cut short when his jaw dropped upon seeing two fully-equipped Marines suddenly jump into the cargo bay of the spinning transport. At this point, he was too dizzy to argue much, and just allowed the man to pick him up and drag him out of the craft. Suddenly they found themselves outside, and Niall was even more disoriented than he had been inside, and as they landed with a coordinated set of 'OOF's but it would be a little while before the young Irishman's world would stop spinning. Regardless, he did manage to groan out a bit of a pained "Thank'ee" to his savior, who appeared to be kitted out slightly differently than a typical UGR Marine, though not as outlandishly as Cormac typically was.

The transport continued its spiral, and by now the pilot was beginning to lose his grip on reality, and possibly his consciousness, as he fought to try and stabilize the spinning craft- it was no use, however, and the Marines would watch as it crept its way closer and closer to the wall of the warehouse, occasionally interrupted by pummeling through a pile of crates, or whatever else was stored in this particular building.
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Straken
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Re: [Prologue] Hitting Home

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Were he not exhausted, Cormac likely would have tried to put up a fight, but between the combat fatigue and his blood loss the Irishman was fresh out of fight. As it happened, all he could really manage was some verbal protests while the marine picked him up and evacuated him from the careening spacecraft. Upon dropping from the drop ship, the sudden landing, while cushioned somewhat, still jarred his injuries, and the tight grip of the marine didn't help. Letting out another sharp cry of pain as the shrapnel buried in his arm shifted, Cormac was roused from his stupor and once again aware of what was going on.

"Ah'm grateful, but still, fuck you," Cormac groaned.
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Re: [Prologue] Hitting Home

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Skip and Dhal regained their feet after gently laying out their fellow marines. Skip chortled at Cormac's remark. "Yeah, sure, whatever pal. I just fucking shredded my gear rolling around like a goddamn dreidel for you, but fuck me, sure. At least buy me dinner first."

Their corpsman arrived around that time and slid to his knees between the two of them. He promptly ignored Niall's bumps and bruises to resolve the shrapnel in Cormac's arm. The other two turned their attention to the woman who was clearly in charge of this outfit.

"Clean work, men. Can't say the Gentleman will appreciate what you've done with the suits, though." There was noticeable softening in her voice. It was the closest she could come to humor.

"He can fuck a pig in a suit for all I care. Saved a couple lives, put down a dozen separatist fuckwits. A few scratches ain't--" When Skip saw her glare, he stiffened. "Sorry, Sergeant."

She gazed down at the corpsman and his patients. "Venidas, sitrep." Benicio Bienvenidas replied, "Nothing too serious, Sergeant Enos."

"Good."
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Kai
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Re: [Prologue] Hitting Home

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Niall tried his best to delicately, yet swiftly, extricate himself from this new Marine that had saved him, much unlike his friend Cormac. The young Callaghan dusted himself off after being dismissed by the medic and instead opted to watch the floundering transport, as everything aside from that seemed to have calmed down at this point. "Oy, Cormac, why'nt ya lookat tha?" he uttered, as the craft took one final spin before slamming cockpit-first into the wall of the warehouse, the loud crashing and booming punctuated by the engines finally deciding to cut out completely, their noise now replaced by the blare of the craft's on-board alarms. as the dust settled, they would notice that there wasn't any movement coming from the craft, though Niall knew that there were likely to be survivors on board.

"Oi, whoever's in charge 'ere needs ta get on comms with the police ta send some emergency services over 'ere ta deal wit tha leftovers" standing up from his seat on the floor and stretching, popping a few joints and cracking his neck to release some tension. "Inna meantime, ah guess we shoul' keep watch 'er at leas' see whass in 'ere tha's go' 'em tryina 'scape so quick." He pulled his pistol out of its holster once more, making sure to reload the magazine completely just in case something went wrong, and then started walking over to the craft. "Anyone comin?"
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Mr. Blackbird Lore
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Re: [Prologue] Hitting Home

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Enos lasered Niall with her critical gaze. "Emergency services were called before we even pulled you from the ship. And unless you're hiding some stripes under that jacket, sir, you'll not forget to respect the chain of command." She glanced between the men sporting brushed metal backsides. "Skip, Dhal, make sure they don't get stuck again. Cleared lethal for anyone in the craft." She got two grunts of confirmation before they made off for the wreckage.

"Bentoo," Camilla addressed the medic by his nickname now that the others were away. Benicio smiled. She only ever used it when it was just them. "How about him?" She pointed at Cormac. The corpsman rose and pulled Cormac to his feet. His wounds were freshly dressed and his body was pumped with all the requisite drugs. "He's good to go. A day or two of convalescence, he should be right as rain."
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Straken
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Re: [Prologue] Hitting Home

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The medic, or at least closest thing to the medic, would also end up patching a few shallow bullet holes from higher caliber rounds that had made their way through Cormac's ballistic weave clothing. With his arm now heavily bandaged along with the other leaks the Irishman had sprung, and a fair bit of help from the drugs, Cormac managed to keep his feet. "Cut the lad some slack, still fresh at this and he just had to chase my sorry ass into that spinnin' death machine," Cormac said, sounding like he had just woken up before gesticulating towards the now downed drop ship. "Specialist Cormac Flynn, reporting... Staff Sergeant. I'm the guy that threw the expensive grenade."
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Kai
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Re: [Prologue] Hitting Home

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"Ah apologize Ma'am" Niall responded to Sergeant Enos. "Guess Ah been hangin' round Specialist Flynn too much." He made sure to call Cormac by his rank and last name as a bit of a Jab at the man, who had never been too good at keeping with military Propriety in his dealings. He did, however, continue on his way toward the shuttle, feeling a little worse for the wear, but much more confident now that there were more marines around and the shuttle was out of commission.

Oddly though, Niall realized that he heard a lot more gunfire coming from outside the building. It seemed to be more distant, but one thing was for sure- The majority of the sound was coming from back toward where the Marine Base was, rather than the opposite side of town and the Naval Drydocks which is where this group of Terrorists had come from. Niall's gut told him that this group was more than just a distraction, though, as it would have been much easier for them to blend in and disappear instead of sticking to a group and trying to make an organized escape.
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Mr. Blackbird Lore
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Re: [Prologue] Hitting Home

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Wary hazel eyes scanned the injured marine. "Pop a squat, Specialist. Your ride will be here soon. Boys, make it quick. We'll probably have to mop up the mess outside, too."

"Aye."

"Roger."

The pair of marines trained their rifles on the transport and doubled their pace.

As the fire continued, the Sergeant was beginning to feel the matter may be more pressing. Time for a change of plans. "Boys, Venidas and I are gonna move the injured and see if we can't calm down these children outside." Two more affirmatives. The corpsman threw Cormac's good arm over his shoulders and readied his rifle in the other hand. He gave a nod to let Sergeant Enos know they were ready. She led the trio away, toward the makeshift entrance her squad had bombed out of the wall. Chances were any emergency responders weren't coming within 200 yards of this mess until it was settled. They would have to escort Specialist Flynn out themselves and likely resolve this conflict single-handedly to boot. Anything less than that would be a miracle, and Camilla's spark of faith had been extinguished decades ago.
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