Author Topic: Operation: Summertime  (Read 463 times)

Offline Simon

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Operation: Summertime
« on: April 16, 2018, 11:36:23 AM »
2100 hours - Edinburgh, Scotland

The lights flickered as they turned on one by one in the room. Footsteps filling the hallway behind the open door, he reached for a chair and pulled it out, taking a seat at one of the desks. Shortly after, the room was filled and the door shut, everyone had taken their place, wasting no time. A plain white board in the front, two of the men in the room stationed by it, with everyone quieting down, one of the men gave start to the briefing. Presented with the case, it was discussed thoroughly, from the targets, a group of sorcerors established on the Summer Isles, to the mission's objective, which was put forth blunt and clear: extermination. A single additional note was made, there were to be no survivors. Now briefed, the men raised from their seats and paced back down the dark hallway, descending to the basement.

The twist of a key in the door's lock resonated through the muttering as cluttered footsteps moved into the room past the door which read 'EQUIPMENT'. Through others' jokes and small talk, Zharkov kept his mind focused. Zipping up his suit he reached into his own locker, picking out the weaponry of choice, readying additional equipment for what he perceived as an upcoming slaughter. Lighting the tip of the cigarette he set to rest between his lips, thoughts of the past raced through his mind, the Summer Isles, the one night that had brought him down his path. Shutting them out, he stood up and called out to gather his team together: "Browning, Reynolds, group up." Zharkov made sure they had readied proper equipment and ran over the briefing once again, further working on the approach plan each team had been given. Ready to depart, weapons and clothing shifted as the men headed for the roof.
A quiet night's sky above them, each of the teams loaded up into one of the two helicopters, split up into a total of four, each a team of three men. With the doors shut, the choppers' rotors stirred up, taking off into the distance.

2321 hours - Summer Isles, Highland Scotland


Turning on the over-head light in the helicopter, Zharkov peered down to his upper left arm, having an uneasy feeling. The announcement of the pilot of closing up to their destination worked up the men, each of them standing up. Dropping the cigarettle he was smoking, Mikhail stood up himself. Peering over to the dashboard, he read off the steadily changing coordinates: 58.030338°N 5.453436°W. A red light filled the now-descending chopper as the men moved over by the door, stomping over the cigarette and blowing the smoke out, he lowered the goggles over his eyes, which were met with the distinct green light that they adjusted to right after.

With the force of the rotors blowing through trees, the helicopters hovered above the ground. Reynolds, followed by Browning each grabbed on to the rope set out of the chopper once the doors were shoved open, making their way down onto the shore. Grasping the rope tight, Zharkov gave into motion, his gloves and rappel rope frictioning roughly in his descent, set apart once his feet met the ground. Looking around himself, he caught sight of nothing apart from their own men. With a few signals, the teams split up, and Mikhail's team of three were headed to the north-eastern part of the island.

Making their way through the vegetation, they came across a wooden hut, which they quickly moved in to clear, finding nothing inside but gardening tools. Stepping out of the shed, Zharkov's Discern worked past the night-vision goggles he was wearing and spotted a silouhette in the distance. With their first target in sight, he coursed into Second Sight, approaching the silouhette. A cold night breeze brushed past Mikhail as he came closer, ending up right behind the silouhette. Breaking out in a dash as fast as a blur, it was gone, but peering over his shoulder, so was his team. Taken by surprise, the two had been ambushed and were still by the hut, the first shots breaking the silence, they riddled through the black robe of an assailant. Jogging back to his team, Zharkov came to a stop, taking aim once his team was in sight. Flames lit up in the dark, Reynolds yelled out and groaned in pain, collapsing as the flames consumed his body. Two precise shots were enough to put the other sorceress down, regrouping with Browning. Stomping over each of their heads, each was given one more bullet to make sure they're dead. Mikhail reached for his earpiece to radio in the loss of Reynolds, but the signal was nothing more than static, making radio communication impossible.

Dwelving further into the Isles, another encounter broke out. This time, engaged by Zharkov and Browning, another two robed Magi fought back. With unnatural prediction and nimble speed, Mikhail's first clip was empty, now close-up with one of the women - a blade pierced through his right arm. Grunting in pain, he pulled a blade of his own, and in a swift motion set it through her forehead. Pulled out of and stabbed again, she dropped dead. Disarmed by a well-aimed throw, Browning restorted to his sidearm. Before he could fire his handgun, a lightning bolt blasted through him, leaving him as nothing more than a fried body. Calling out to the sorceress, Zharkov evoked a curse loud and clear, barring her from using any of her powers. Left with no Magick to employ, the two clashed with their blades. The cold steel cut past Mikhail's vest, right before striked back in momentum, setting the woman off balance; he cupped his hand around her throat and set her down against the ground. With the hood falling off her head, the woman's silver hair was now revealed under the night's sky, her green eyes peering into Zharkov's - who had paused in awe, his grasp on the woman's neck growing weak enough to be kicked back and downed himself. With the violent clash continuing, Zharkov lost his edge if only briefly and got kicked down another time, stabbed through his right leg. Barring off attacks, he could feel his inner wrath grow, but there was something else to it, it wasn't pure anger coursing through him, mixed in with sadness, unbeknownst to him, a thirst for vengeance stirred up. Picking back up, a powerful enough strike was enough to set the woman down once again, with enough time, Zharkov pulled out his sidearm - swiftly setting the barrel of the handgun against her forehead. This wasn't right, he couldn't bring himself to pulling the trigger; she spoke, in an exhausted, yet soothing voice "...Son?". He pressed the handgun down harder against her forehead "All this time.... You.. you don't have to do this, Michael."; "A-April?" he inquired, his grasp once again growing weak for just a moment. With wrath and thirst for vengeance, empathy mixed in, coursing through Zharkov, he was taken by surprise with the sharp edge of April's blade piercing his neck. Memories and more brought back from the past flowing stronger once the blade impaled him sent forth a blessing from the Messengers. April pulled the blade out of his neck, with no sign of remorse, blood dripping onto the cold grass. A never-loving parent, who held nothing but despise for their own child. To her surprise, the stab hadn't made him die, it didn't even make him flinch in fact. With a realization, and a now clear mind, Mikhail was resolute. Pulling the trigger once he executed April.


0200 hours - Summer Isles, Highland Scotland

Standing up from above the dead body of the woman, he pressed down his palm against the wound on his neck, bleeding from his arm, chest and leg as well. Thoroughly weakened, his feeling of accomplishment overrode the previously felt wrath and thirst for vengeance, completing a part of his destiny. Clenching his other fist tightly, he lit up a cigarette, it wasn't this day that Zharkov would die, however, as the accomplishment, temporary sate of vengeance and pain mixed in, he was once again gifted, and through sheer will he started mending his wounds as the other team showed up in the distance.
« Last Edit: April 16, 2018, 11:38:37 AM by Simon »

Offline $hadow

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Re: Operation: Summertime
« Reply #1 on: April 16, 2018, 11:38:52 AM »
oof noice !!

Offline C. White

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Re: Operation: Summertime
« Reply #2 on: April 16, 2018, 11:40:33 AM »
shit dude its so good
Quote from: Jhin
“Art requires a certain cruelty.”
“THERE IS NO DRAMA IN A PEACEFUL DEATH!”
“YOU WILL PERFORM!”


Offline virus

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Re: Operation: Summertime
« Reply #3 on: April 16, 2018, 11:47:51 AM »

Offline Skeeper0

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Re: Operation: Summertime
« Reply #4 on: April 16, 2018, 11:49:55 AM »
ppl have a lot of free time
To see the face of immortality, you must leave the human world
behind.
This fire, these woods, the wind in the branches overhead,
This is the true world, the Mother’s realm,
The seat of the immortal, the heart of our world.
The Weaver spins a gilded web, and strong, but it is false,
Ephemeral, when placed against the branches or the flames.
Steel and glass give brave assurances, but only viewed against our
fragile flesh.
Inside that flesh, inside ourselves, is immortality.

Online Maid

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Re: Operation: Summertime
« Reply #5 on: April 16, 2018, 12:10:28 PM »
I really enjoyed it

Online Raven Corella

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Re: Operation: Summertime
« Reply #6 on: April 16, 2018, 12:20:06 PM »
even in NPC quests you still spam Balance... what a beta cuck

also wtf, this story is wrong



there's nothing there...

Offline Jeffrey Gain

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Re: Operation: Summertime
« Reply #7 on: April 16, 2018, 05:46:53 PM »
really good, loved it.

Offline Numb

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Re: Operation: Summertime
« Reply #8 on: April 17, 2018, 01:15:51 PM »
nice
Spoiler for Hidden: