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RP: 4th Fleet (NSN) [Mission 6.1] Housekeeping

Sigma

Sigma

Inactive Member
As Grand Admiral Valken strode down the halls of the 4th Fleet Headquarters, flanked by his twin bodyguards and Rear Admiral Valencia Ironside, only one thing burned brightly in his mind.

There's a traitor in this building!

There was absolutely no way that his assassins could have intercepted any transmissions since none had been made. The arrangements to convoy to the Governor's office had been made using the strictest IPG methods. Personal hand-deliverance of sealed envelopes!

Commandant Shang was now screening every individual involved. Again. It had been absolutely watertight! Shang had drafted all of the letters and printed them at his personal station on the floor commandeered by the IPG. Now he had spent the past week since the attack looking for the hole. If he kept it up for another hour, Valken made a mental note to order the man to take a day off and sleep. The hunt was such a huge drain on the man that the normally-ascetic Shang had finally acquiesced to taking a personal assistant to look after everything else. A young woman named Naomi Evans who looked just as severe as Shang.

"Valen... Admiral Ironside, the building's AI has been upgraded to the ACE, correct?" he stopped himself from calling his second in command by her first name. "I believe so," she replied, puzzled by the sudden breach of collective silence.

"Tell Murdoch and Volkov's man, Wreno, to start looking for holes there. I don't see how but everyone kept saying that Wazu had backdoors into DREI. I thought our eggheads at Cirrus closed them all but if they exist, we have not explored that possibility. And if our systems here were simply upgraded rather than a clean, new install, those backdoors might still exist. Tell Shang to provide them with whatever they need from the IPG's box of goodies."

For now, Valken removed that issue to the back of his mind and returned to the reason they were heading for a conference room.

As his bodyguards opened the door for him and his Chief of Staff, two dozen Marines and a dozen IPG Commandos rose to their feet with salutes. Valken waved the salutes away and started speaking as he walked amidst them, a lecturer amongst his students. "Ladies and gentlemen, the IPG has found quite a few locations for us to examine. Of course, the moment we touch one we run the risk of losing all of them. So we are going to be hitting the small ones and watching where the big ones scurry off to."

He hit the button on datajockey and the lights dimmed as a projection of a map of Prime City appeared. Red dots in varying sizes appeared.

"Sergeant Motoyama," he paused to let the Marines figure out the promotion, "will be hitting this hardware store. Sergeants Hardman and Volkov will be hitting this storage warehouse. Lastly, Sergeant Zanders will be hitting this security agency. Chief Santiago will be coordinating. The hardware store is a front for a gun dealer who deals in military-grade weapons. Some of the firearms we took were sold by him. And I'm told he has a bunker underground so search everything and bring him in alive.

"The warehouse was previously owned by Paragon and while Corporal Holmes believes that its original inventory was removed, it is possible things were brought in through there. Regardless, it remains a popular gathering spot for Paragon and other mercenaries. Kill some, grab some, tag some. We have a special dust round for the LSP that sprays nano-machine trackers onto the targets we hit. It'll hurt and probably knock them out but I want them to think they were left for dead. Then we'll see where they go. Regardless, you'll be going in with power armor."

Valken looked directly at Phaedra. "Put the fear of God and the Marines into them."

"The security agency has been advertising for new contractors and has been actively seeking ex-Paragon. Corporal Watson walked in yesterday, said she was ex-Paragon and was hired on the spot. Even given a tour. They have a store front as well as an armory and a barracks. So expect resistance. Same as the warehouse raids, kill, grab, tag."

Valken looked around for any questions.

Meanwhile, Valencia Ironside sent Bastilen Wreno his own instructions.

Code: 
You will not be going on this raid.  Meet me after this concludes for special assignment.
 
The already rattling Bastilen was rattled even more as he received his message. Several hours had passed since his last smoke, and he was continuously patting himself down for a pack that wasn't there. He was sweating, on edge, and wound up more than ever. With a bit of bitterness on his tongue, he checked his datajockey for the priority message. The words on it made him curl up in his seat with no idle expression. For a few moments, he had to calm himself down, lathering his stress flatly over his mind.

A special assignment? Special? He was a Marine, he shot things and spliced wires. What sort of 'special' mission would they have for him? His purpose was so far as a grunt.

He carefully pressed his palm against his forehead, and turned his hollow, glowing eyes towards Valencia Ironside.

The Admiral's lapdog.

A searing headache took to his mind, like a whipping lash. His eyes fell out of focus as he forced himself not to show it. One eyeball carelessly took its own direction. After taking a moment to recover, his eyes came back to focusing in one way.

The Admiral's aide.

Almost like a encouraging pet on the head, his withdrawal subsided for a moment. The alleviation gave him cause to relax, and then stiffen, letting him focus on his posture. Yet, before the pangs of addiction could settle back in after the endorphins settled, the paranoia seeded itself within his mind again. The sickening cocktail of thoughts and urges mixing made for a hard experience.

He had orders though, and to his serrated brain, that was enough to allay any personal remorse. All that remained was to report to the Admiral.
 
The Marines and Commandos broke up and headed towards the HQ's Armory, save for Bastilen, who remained behind. Phaedra seemed to stop to look back at him but she met the Grand Admiral's eyes, which told her that he wanted to speak to the Marine.

"Don't worry about him. He may be an unsettled psychopath but the Admirals have got two more guarding them. We'll have time to evacuate the building before it explodes," Leon Santiago said to Phaedra as they walked out together.

He noticed Laura's arms wrapped around Bernhard's left arm and the normally stern-faced man was not chastising her at all. He even seemed to be enjoying it. "I'm really surprised that he's coping so well with Rok'Veru. My contacts in 1st Fleet are all saying how bad it was for the first wave, getting cut off from resupply and reinforcements. Would you put it down to being under the care of the Most Brilliant Medic in the Universe?" he joked.

********

"Private Wreno, we've got something that requires your skills as a hacker and technology expert. The IPG agents and Hacker Cult mercenaries we've got are all focusing on the exterior threat and guarding us from possible electronic attacks. But the Grand Admiral and I have come upon something that the IPG haven't thought of yet. We only upgraded the building AI, we didn't do a fresh install. Therefore, it is possible that the old DREI coding might still leave a back door into the systems. I want you to work with Captain Murdoch and his team to make sure there are no holes. If there aren't, you will then work with him to simulate a hacking attack on the IPG boys. Also, Captain Murdoch can get you anything you might need, even IPG equipment."

Admiral Ironside spoke formally since she was in the presence of both her superior and his IPG attack dogs.

"I am sure Captain Murdoch would be most rewarding if you could show up those IPG boys," she added in a conspiratorial whisper.
 
smokesmokesmokesmoke

Bastilen's head throbbed for a moment, as his cool was evaporating internally. His blood boiled bit by bit as the paranoia wracked his mind. Both of those IPG 'attack dogs' had their eyes trained on him, because he was the virulent mutt of their rugged pack of wolves. He was used to stares, but he couldn't shake the look of anyone with an IPG strap on their arms. The boots of the marines behind him struck heavily on the floor as they began to exit, the noise in the hallways outside the room peeled at his eardrums. His attentions swiftly diverted as Ironside stepped forward, her feet less heavy and trodden. Bastilen had felt like he had been furiously looking about the room, when he had simply been standing at attention the whole time.

At the very least, Ironside was pleasing to look at. If one were to choose a lapdo-- aide, it might as well be someone of charming demeanor. Then again, that was the case with many of the naval and officer staff. Well-kept hair, an imposing and untouched face, marked and crystal features unchipped by battle. The only thing Valencia had to worry about was the inevitable sag.

"Private Wreno,
Click to expand...

Like a hot iron, freshly misted and gliding over a wrinkled cloth, Bastilen's mind flattened warmly as his brain quickly geared into place. His questionably stable stare turned into something more liquid and natural. Despite the complete stillness in it, his stance also exuded a relaxed calm. Even if that paranoia underlying his brain screamed summary execution, while his reasonable side tried to scream at how stupid the other was, his instinct was spot on. He listened intently for his briefing, before catching Valencia's last remark.

The pass was casual, but, despite Nepleslian conventions, Bastilen straightly answered in return.

"Is that an order, admiral?" Returned Bastilen in equal whisper, eyes cut straight forward.
 
"Merely a suggestion, Private. The good Commandant is so fond of reminding me why his people are better that I feel that we have an obligation to prove him wrong on occasion," the Admiral replied with a grin.

She knew the IPG were listening. Much as she disliked Shang's style, Valencia Ironside had to grant that Dominic Valken's knack for choosing the right individuals for the job was spot on. The man made a horrible battlefield commander but as operational leader of the clandestine IPG, he was perfect. His severity just oozed mystery and danger. Not to mention his utter ruthlessness. For now, he was the Grand Admiral's attack dog. But one day in the not-too-distant future, the Grand Admiral would return to 4th Fleet and only maintain symbolic control of the IPG. One day, Commandant Shang was going to be deciding the future of Nepleslia's security without needing to clear it with Admiral Valken.

It made Valencia Ironside a little scared to think how much power that man would wield. Only his personal loyalty to Valken kept him from abusing that power. Valencia did not feel that the concept of honor had even crossed Shang's mind, no matter how many assurances from Valken she had that the man had a sense of honor. Just one different from everyone else.
 
The Tech Expert remained unflinching even with the encouraging grin from Ironside.

Circumventing an IPG installation was a high expectation, and an honor to no doubt, but unfortunately, he felt no underlying desire to do that. He wanted as little to do with the IPG as possible, desperately hoping that his future assignments would have him simply working with DION personnel. Murdoch wasn't a bad individual, at least, considering the first time they met when Bastilen was just rejoining in the service. The activity would be a refreshing change from the usual rough and tumble of combat. Though, the young Wreno would likely have felt a little more comfortable if he had gotten away from the spooks.

"Understood. I'll report to Murdoch immediately," answered Bastilen, his gaze becoming more hollow by the passing moment.
 
"Would you put it down to being under the care of the Most Brilliant Medic in the Universe?" joked Leon.

"It could be just that," remarked Phaedra as they entered the armory. Phaedra pulled out her datapad and sent a message to all of the Cavaliers.

Code: 
To: Cavaliers
From: Sgt. Phaedra Volkov
 
All Cavaliers, meet in the HQ armory in 15 minutes.
Select your PAs and have them ready for combat within the hour.
We will have special rounds for your LSP sidearms for this mission; ensure you acquire some.

With that, Phaedra selected a Hostile in one of the armor bays and began to check its equipment and weapon loadout. She selected a HPAR with the underslung grenade launcher and loaded several fragmentation grenades.

Following her own advice, she also made sure to acquire the specials rounds required for her LSP.
 
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Eric was already on his way to the armory, having a heated discussion with a pair of power armor technicians about the usefulness of engineers in a combat setting. A quick glance at his datapad halted the conversation and a big grin showed on his face. "Let me show you boys what an engineer can do. Remember to bring your popcorn to watch the AAR." He then rushed off with the techs in tow to suit up.

He ducked around the suits and weapons displayed in the armory until he found the closest hostile to the equipment he would need. He lightly climbed into the armor, "Suit me up techs." Pointing at an Engineer Arm and Toolkit, "Those toys are mine and I'm not too fond of lifting them by myself." He grinned and let the techs strap the hulking backpack onto the power armor, he even shifted forward so they could get a decent angle on the bottom connections.

He was then given a standard HPAR, which he promptly fitted his sightline to make up for the large Engineer Arm on his left forearm. A quick flame burst from the Engineer Arm at the technicians as they scampered away and he was ready to go. "Engineer ready for fixin' tanks and breakin' banks Sgt."
 
Stan was not far behind Eric, having received the message only a short time before. Slipping into the armoury, he made a beeline for the nearest Aggressor. Might as well stick with what you know, thought Stan as he clambered into the Powered Armour. He selected an AMP-01a rather than the Assault Ordinance Projector; the ID-SOL didn't want to invite fate by using the far more destructive AOP. For his mini-missile racks Stan decided upon an Arrow weapon case for his left hardpoint and a Dart weapon case for his right hardpoint.

Finally, he checked that his Aggressor's LSP had indeed been given the special rounds mentioned in Volkov's message. Satisfied that this was the case, he tried to make himself more comfortable in the PA's bulk. He didn't know what this mission was all about, but he felt quitely confident. Stan tried to ignore the small part of his mind that suggested his confidence might be misplaced. "I'm ready, ma'am."
 
One of the Hostiles in the armor bay suddenly stirred up and started moving as the initial checks were completed, this one had a brand new painting and the left side shoulder plate had a crudely painted emblem on it consisting of a cracked skull under a mountain. Wulfe had been the closest to the armory than the other marines and had some comfortable time to do the same routine checks before he started walking about with the armor. The marine tested every joint of it to make sure it had been fully repaired since the fiasco from when he had previously used it, which was all the more reasons for him to not take any chances.

Once he was satisfied with the new state of his armor, the marine picked the same loadout from the last mission, an HPAR and the AS4GS. He also took one rack of ARROWs and another of DARTs.

"Stones here. Loaded out and good to go." Wulfe called out on the squad's frequency.
 
Talbain remained in the briefing room long enough to get a closer look at the projected targets. Using his own Datajockey to pull up whatever information he could get on the warehouse. Satisfied that he had something he could work with the ID-SOL started towards the armory. He already knew what he would be bringing. Aggressor loaded with an AMP and BOLTs.

Making his way into the armory is was a simple task to find an armor his selected load out. All he needed to do was the pre-combat checks and swap his sidearm's ammo. He also started going over what he had found with his Datajockey more in depth. The Corporal wanted to know exactly what the squad would be going into.

"Talbain, ready. These bullets draw blood or are they obviously fake if you check the wound?"

Content that he was personally ready for the mission he started making his way around the armory to make sure the rest of the squad would be ready at the go time.
 
"Hey, newbie!" Laura started to shout when she stopped. "Spence, don't lecture those guys. Or tell them what to do," she said again, more seriously. She pointed at one of the Navy techs who was now pushing a crate of ammunition for the IPG Commandos. His rank insignia showed him to be an E-4, a Petty Officer. The equivalent of a Sergeant. "You think you're such a hot shot engineer, then they'll let you repair your suit by yourself. And don't think the Junker drones will help you out. They listen to the Navy guys more than us. Helpful as they are, the drones won't help you if they're told that you don't need help by the guys who run this Armory." She walked up to Spence, her VOID's monoeye focusing on him.

"And dump your engineer toys. You heard them. Kill, grab, tag. We need to sit and build shit, we're doing something wrong. If we were going in stealthy, we'd use Golems. We're taking power armor. Means we're going in loud and hard," Bernhard Greer added, clapping Laura lightly on her shoulder. His own Hostile was painted with his old trademark rampant bear motif on the left shoulder plate. He didn't mention that he personally believed they would be going in through the roof.

With that the two medics left to double check their equipment. They went at it with the same practiced efficiency of a team that knew what the other was thinking. Once they were sure their medical kits were fully stocked, they began checking each others' weapons. Laura's Light Plasma Autocannon was hooke into her suit and fully charged. Her Plasma Artillery mounts had been removed to allow her more freedom of movement. Bernhard's HPAR was whirring and loaded.

-------------------------

"They hurt like hell. So I suggest aiming for heads with these rounds. That way, they'll think they were hit by a ricochet or shrapnel. It'll also knock them out," Chief Santiago replied to Talbain's question. He walked over in his Raider. While cleared, nominally, for light duties, the Chief refused to go without armor so that he could act as back up if needed. An AS4GS and the Raider's own integral weaponry was enough.

"And Corporal Talbain, we are dropping through the roof. Looking forward to it?"

---------------------------

Valencia returned to Dominic Valken with a new report. "Special package has arrived. Currently in holding aboard Fearless," she reported.
 
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Contrary to popular expectations, the Marines were not shuttled up to the NSS Melissa Kenni and fired from the assault carrier's launch tubes. Instead, they were picked up by a pair of Viper gunships escorted by a pair of Corona gunships. These took them to the site where they were to make a combat drop straight through the roof. This was where training, experience, and trust in the Power Armor's AI and capabilities took over. If the Marines tried to correct the AI, they would most likely land in a less healthy fashion.

Bernhard felt the rush in his armor, recalling vividly how he had gone through similar procedures right before dropping into Rok'Veru. The moment he and his squad had deployed onto the surface, bright lances of light stabbed all around them. The explosive shells and kinetic rounds started pinging off their armor before follow up shots penetrated. They had landed in the middle of an NMX unit and only Bernhard had escaped alive. He hadn't fought the last round or emerged victorious from it. He had started running the moment he saw the last of his squad go down. It had happened so quickly. His Hostile then had recorded a mere 26 second interval between landing and the annihilation of his squad.

Everything said that this wouldn't be like the last time. Everything pointed to a swift and decisive Nepleslian victory. But the Rok'Veru Offensive had started off on the same premise. A swift and decisive military strike at Rok'Veru and the Southern Expanse. It had ended as a brutal meat grinder in Rok'Veru as the 1st Marines fought in hellish street to street combat until the surface had been wiped clean of the NMX taint. Then they had gone underground, to flush out the rats still in hiding.

"Impact in five. Four. Three. Two...." the AI counted down in each Marine's helmet, deliberately skipping the final second to allow the Marines to focus on bracing themselves psychologically. Even with thrusters, they were still going at close to 120kph.

And then eight, multi-ton pieces of metal crashed through the roof of the "Sell 4 Junk" warehouse and slammed into the concrete flooring with the force of a minor earthquake.

"Deployed. Threat detected," the AI announced. The last two words jolted Bernhard into action. He raised his HPAR and scanned for targets. Oh yes, there were targets. All along the catwalks of the second floor and scattered around the first. Most of them were still trying to figure out what had just happened. But they were armed. And that was enough for Bernhard to consider them hostile. This was not going to be a repeat of Rok'Veru and they would not be slaughtered.

"Engaging," Bernhard announced with the cold precision of a surgeon at work. And then his HPAR started dispensing molten metal at high velocity.

Turn 1/4
 
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After landing in her Hostile, Phaedra quickly checked her surroundings.

"Put the fear of God into them, Marines," said Phaedra, reciting the Admiral's order.

Phaedra fired a fragmentation round from her underslung grenade launcher at a group of the hostiles and then advanced to make room for her comrades.

"Fan out. Let none of them escape. Do not forget to use your LSP to wound some of them; that will be vital towards our next mission."
 
The sensation of freefall is an odd one, even to an ID-SOL cocooned in the latest and greatest Power Armour that Nepleslia had to offer its Marines. Unlike Bernhard, Stan simply had nothing to compare the experience to, aside from training. That was only a mere substitute for the reality of a combat drop during an actual operation. If Stan should have cursed his inexperience, he did not. Right now the mission was all that mattered, even as his Aggressor's AI coolly intoned the seconds until impact. "Impact". A funny word for what was ostensibly a rapid insertion into the area of operations. It brought to mind images of smoking craters and twisted wreckage instead of heroically entering the fray.

Then came the one-two punch of smashing through the roof like it was wet tissue paper and coming to a violent stop at ground level. His Aggressor's systems did their job, of course. The deceleration was not as jarring as Stan had thought it would be. But the time for reflection had passed. Stan had already begun to move away from his initial landing point when Phaedra's disembodied voice and his suit's AI relayed their messages. His eyes were drawn to the second floor catwalk. The ID-SOL began hefting his AMP into position to hose them down with a deadly hail of projectiles, but thought better of it. They did, after all, need to leave some alive if they wanted to get anywhere.

Letting his AMP fall gently to one side (making sure as he did so that it wasn't damaged by the floor), he used his now free hand to draw his LSP and began firing at the figures on the catwalk, relying on both his Aggressor's plasma chaingun turrets and the rest of the Cavaliers to protect him from other threats now that he was much less mobile. His current position may not have been ideal, but hopefully it would go a long way to securing the success of their next mission.
 
Talbain remained silent after Chief Santiago had asked his question. He fully expected the gunship convoy to be engaged as they neared their jump point. Picking a fight with the SMDIoN and not keeping an eye out for military equipment just seemed like idiocy to the marine. But there they were over the target and no hostile fire inbound. Figuring out the enemies motives or failings would have to wait. Combat drops weren't something new to the ID-SOL but that would be no excuse to be lax.

Smashing through the roof and into the floor was simple. The armor literally did all of the work up to that point. Coming up to his armor's full height he activated the suits monoeyes and started to feed data to the squad. He then set the PCTs to work chewing a few good sized hole in the buildings wall while pulling his side arm. They needed runners and that meant these thugs needed an easy out. All that was left was to hose some bodies with trackers. So the Corporal set to work.
 
As he neared the drop point, Wulfe let his PA's AI do the job of calculating, while he worried about what came after. A strange sense of nervousness set over the marine as he dropped; There was nothing he could do to change anything until he landed, and the fact that he had to trust his life into something else to do the job for him unsettled him. He let go of that chain of thought, though, reminding himself that until he hit the solid ground there was nothing he could do, and messing with the AI as it tried to make him land safely -if he still recalled basic training- would be more detrimental to him. At least he wasn't underground, though.

"Three seconds." The AI intoned. The marine closed his eyes and tried to change his disposition on these last few seconds.

'Psyching... Psyching...' He thought to himself. He remembered his previous missions, on how he and the Cavaliers had fought against the NMX, Nepleslians against the bad monsters who tried to wipe them out from the galaxy, the reason of why he fought them was clear: Survival. Now it was themselves against themselves, Nepleslian against Nepleslian, as if the achievement of beating a big foe rewarded them with infighting.

"One second." The AI chimed in. Wulfe noticed he didn't pay attention to the last second. The marine remembered getting buried alive once again as the roof of the warehouse got bigger and bigger on that last few seconds. He remembered the same frustration and anger at being helpless once again and used it, instead of keeping that bottled up and stashed away. His suit went through the metal roof like it was nothing, and the marine landed on the concrete floor, waiting for the shockwave that would jar his teeth and shatter them, but there was none of that.

Looking around him as the rest of the squad dropped, Wulfe set his attention to the mercenaries around and above him, scurrying around like cockroaches in the confusion. The marine thought how they, simple mercenaries, were somehow worse than the NMX; Instead of fighting for a cause or something that they upheld, they instead fought for money, even against their own kind. Offing those guys wasn't simply his job anymore, it was his pleasure. The marine opened up with his armor's Pulse Laser Arrays on the closest, before drawing the LSP and firing at the ones on the catwalks. He didn't bother to use his HPAR, there was no need to and he would rather save the ammo if something that posed more of a threat showed up.
 
Laura watched Bernhard's fire rip through humans as if they were hot butter, turning them into little more than bloody chunks. The HPAR was an anti-armor weapon and using it on infantry was overkill. But it was also more personal than relying on the AI-controlled Pulse Laser Array. She held her fire. The Marines didn't need every single gun firing yet.

------------------------------

The suspects on the catwalk disappeared into rooms above, save for those who had been killed or wounded. And for a moment, the Marines were alone in the warehouse. A few bodies lay around, some were corpses while others showed signs of having been hit by the modified LSP rounds. One was showing bruising on his face while another seemed to have a dislocated shoulder, if Laura was a good judge of the strange angle his arm was in.

The crates which the Marines were surrounded by seemed unimportant. No heat sources had been detected and nothing was showing up on their IFF.

Swiftly, they began spreading out towards the stairs before stopping. The moment they stepped on the stairs or catwalk, the thin metal would collapse under their weight. Sure the design had small robots or large ID-SOLs in mind. Not multi-ton warmachines.

"Marines, new intelligence. They are moving combat robots in that warehouse. Find and disable the control center before they can activate those 'bots," Leon Santiago said over the squad radio channel.

It was, however, a little tardy. Just at that moment, the Cavaliers began seeing dozens of unidentified blips around them. Two of the large crates on the floor simply burst apart as the J1 Jimmy and J2 Steve robots inside activated and sought their targets.

"Well, I guess it's shoot first and ask questions tomorrow," Laura said, noting how each robot was armed with some sort of laser pistol. Her own plasma autocannon and laser gatlings began pumping superheated projectiles into the robots. One simply melted while the Jimmy behind it collapsed with a giant hole in its chest from her ORANGE 40mm grenade.

But she and the Marines also took fire from the laser pistols which the combat robots held. These were obviously designed for anti-armor use and while a single one wasn't a danger, concentrated fire would penetrate military shielding. Wulfe and Stan both noticed that their shields were being weakened.

Bernhard, however, had slung his HPAR around his back and start smashing one of the robots with his VBCS knife and armored fist. Laura was really beginning to worry about him.
 
"Take the robots down. Watch your fire lanes," said Phaedra as she fired her HPAR in short bursts at two nearby Jimmy robots.

"Keep an eye out for the control center; the faster we take that out the faster the robots are down."
 
Wulfe ducked into the nearest cover as his PA's Savtech informed him of the hits that his shields had absorbed. The marine looked around for the others while he switched out his HPAR for the AS4GS. He waited a moment before ducking back out and firing slugs at the nearby bots, while he looked for a way deeper into the warehouse.

"Copy that! Advancing, someone cover me!" Wulfe called out on the squad radio. He'd let some of the members of the squad like Greer, who was busy going medieval on the bots, draw the most attention. He pumped the AS4GS, loading a fresh round into each of the barrels as he left his cover and moved around the warehouse.
 
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