Hunters Hornets - Stories from the RPG game.

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Hunters Hornets - Stories from the RPG game.

Post by Dingo on Wed Nov 18, 2015 10:46 pm

Hunters Hornets
Travel Plans


Gordan ‘Thrifty’ Chaal stood on a long abused runway. It was cracked and worn, and in desperate need of new running lights. It ran alongside the hangers and demountable buildings belonging to the freshly minted Hunter’s Hornets merc unit. Their base was located deep in the shadow of ‘The Ridge’ found on the Romulus continent of Outreach. The Mercenary Star.
Gordan was not a slight man, and he was not that young anymore. His wide shoulders and almost wider girth hid the remains of a professional soldier, turned mercenary quartermaster. Well, Chief of Staff was his actual title, although he was sure his friend and CO Rosylyn Hunter was just being generous.
Regardless of all this, he stood in early morning light, the wind tossing his long grey hair.
It all looked terribly dramatic and impressive. Well, it would have except for the part where he had his face in his hands, peeking through his fingers at the foolishness occurring before him.

Behind him were the unit’s Mechwarriors and assembled Hornets crew.
'Dent' Carter in his reconditioned, Davion issue combat jumpsuit and characteristic slouch hat. ‘Domino' Orlova was in her Liao regulation combat fatigues, carry-all packed and slung across her shoulders. 'Scuttle' Thuss was looking dishevelled as usual in his flannelette shirt and combat pants, chewing on a 20 c-bill cigar.
'Killjoy' Chen leaned beside him, Mohawk standing proud, Capellan ConFed tattoo on her shaved scalp, and another cigar pursed thoughtfully between her lips.
Charles Lockheed, the Hornets new Armor Boss stood with his vehicle staff, were off to the side.
His tread-head flakk wear looking decidedly out of place with his floral beach shirt and ‘comfy’ shoes. The gang of pilots, gunners and tactical officers milled around him, not sure what to do next. They had started putting down their boxes of personal effects and flight luggage… one or two personal vid-corders had been produced as well.

Chief Mechanic ‘Vix’ Pencoliss and the engineering staff had just arrived. She sat (tough-girl-beautiful as always) in the flatbed’s driver seat looking stunned at what she saw. Her co-pilot slowly rose out of his seat and squinted in disbelief.

The entire assembly, all 32 members of the Hunters Hornets stood with a mix of amused, bemused, and generally confused looks on their faces. (Except for Gordan who might just start crying or shooting. Perhaps both.)

Before them on the runway was a pair of impressive Leopard class dropships. Ramps open and ready to receiver their well paying customers.

Except…

Except that the two dropships belonged to two different transport companies. Companies that had some bad blood between them. Recently bad, and very bad at that.
So instead of a professional team of dropship crew helping them load-up and embark on their maiden contract, the Hornets had an all in brawl spilling all over the runway.
Punches and kicks, choke holds and head-butts. Wrenches flung, knives drawn and the chaos was spreading. A senior flight officer was being beaten by junior techs, rival mechanics were embroiled in a grand melee. The two captains, one in full officers garb the other in leathers and denim, were punching hell out of each other in a cargo bay.
People were being thrown off crates, into walls, and down steps. Heated cursing, howls of pain, and screams of rage echoed across the base.

It was when pistols were drawn and shots started ringing out that the captivated spectators decided it might be time to retreat back into the hangers.

“So. Dis is normal operation procedure yes?” Asked Vix, in her heavy Slavic Accent.
Gordon ignored her and went inside to report the situation to Hunter who, he hoped, hadn’t looked outside just yet.

Charles Lockheed, a seasoned denizen of the Periphery was the last one to leave the scene.
“I like it.” He thought. “Feels like home here.”

He picked up his bags and whistled as base security finally raced past in their APC.

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Dingo
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