The Hero's Ball (Closed RP)

[Daenerys Targaryen]

Sergeant Felicity Nora  

The Grand Ballroom  

Operation: FUBAR

Leave it to Max to not only find exactly what we need but also manage to carry my fat ass past insurrectionists bastards without incident. She couldn't help but inwardly beam at the heroics of her Corporal. Just as quickly, she cringed at the realization that she would be paying his drink tabs for the next year. The floor was full of maniac turnip farmers and he was managing to keep his cool through it. Though, that was a given when you fought gigantic disgusting aliens for a job. "Best job I've ever had." Felicty stated through her gritted teeth, in response to Maxen as he carried her toward the first aid station. 

What surely seemed like only moments to Maxen dragged out for what felt like years to her. Every step jarred her wound and she felt herself slipping slowly toward an edge, she honestly didn't know what that was but that feeling had been nestled in her gut ever since she hit the ground.

"Let's see what we've got here."

To her Corporal's credit, he remained conscious of her wound and made his man handling as gentle as possible. After setting her on the floor, he commenced digging around the contents of a green box. The realization of what he would find in that box brought another grimace to Felicity's face. She'd had biofoam injected before, but it didn't mean she was fond of the damn stuff either. The last time she had some of that shit in her, was after a particularly nasty incident involving her thigh and a piece of re-bar.

"Alright, let's get it done."

After a slight moment of hesitation, Felicity hiked up her skirt to reveal the wound once more and removed the blood soak cloth she had been pressing against her wound. Maxen advanced on her with the biofoam, and before she knew it the nozzle was already being pressed into the wound. A string of grunts and curses flew past her lips so fast her mother on Cascade probably woke up from it. Her eyes felt like they were going to shoot out of her skull and her skin crawled enough that it seemed to be commencing its own insurrection against her muscles. 

She didn't want to look down, but when she finally found the will to do so, Max had already wrapped up her wound in thick medical gauze. The bleeding had sure as hell stopped, but her insides felt like he had shoved bees into her hip rather than biofoam. "Best job I've ever had." More of a grunt this time, she recited the mantra once more through gritted teeth. 

Maxen once again came to her rescue and handed her four white tablets of which she assumed to be medicine. Swallowing them dry was a bitch, but she did it anyway as soon as he had handed them to her, all in one go as well. There squad mates wold have been impressed. 

"Alright. So from here, we need to find the others. We won't last for too much longer on our own like this. The bottom floor looks like a no-go, lots of dead civvies and a high concentration of Insurrectionists. Up is harder but a better, and safer bet. How do you feel?"



His words were almost as difficult to process as the situation she found herself in. There really hadn't been much else to focus on after getting shot, but now she needed to focus. "Up might be bad too. The head cheeses are up there yeah?" A wave of nausea passed over her and the pain in her side flared. "Nnnngh. God damn. Agh." Eventually, both sensations subsided and she managed to regain her composure. "They might be nicer up there but more interested in hostages." Honestly, she had no idea what a good alternative might look like. She hadn't exactly had time to case the joint since dinner. 

Felicity let her head drop back onto the wall behind her, and was annoyed to find her head clank against the rough grating of a vent protruding from the alcove wall. Almost as if a light bulb flashed to light above her head, Felicity turned as best as she could to get good look at the vent behind her. From what she could see, the opening looked big enough to crawl through. 

The Sergeant grabbed a hold of the discarded biofoam can that Maxen had let drop to the floor soon after it had served her purpose. The nozzle itself as a sharp piece to it, and she used that to prod at one of the screws on the corner of the vent. It fit easily enough, and she gave it a small twist. The screw moved in the direction turned, and Felicity managed a small smile. "I think we've found our exit strategy corporal." Twisting out the screws with Maxen's help was easy enough. The gunshots on he floor below advertised to both of them that the insurrectionists were currently to busy handling others to handle them, and somehow they had managed to get the grate off without incident. 

Before her now was a dark and dusty maw that would lead them to god knows where, but wherever it was it was far from her. "Alright." The tablets she had swallowed earlier had numbed the pain in her hip considerably. She was in no shape to get up and do jumping jacks, but she definitely felt better than she had. 

She looked down toward her dress one last time, and gaze a resigned sigh. The glittery gold thing she had been so found of was now nothing more than a gaudy, blood soaked rag. Any dust she might pick up in the vent wouldn't make anything worse than it already was. "Let's hope this leads somewhere worth while Maxen." She would let him go first, of course, and after he made his way in she would crawl in behind him and try her best to move the grate back into place as to not cause suspicion. 

Valerie Cayla Jakande
ONI Deputy Director
The Grand Ballroom
"Is this all an elaborate set up
to punish me for ordering his food for him?"

Valerie had not carried a gun in years, and now as she sat there, with her back pressed against the dark oak of the bar, she knew she would never not carry one ever again. This was happening over Jupiter after all, in the bloody Sol System, where all they had ever known had originated from. Everything seemed to slow down or speed up on a whim. There were some periods of silence, followed by the screams and cries of people getting shot to death floors below. Christ. Don't these people know how to handle a hostage situation? Of course they didn't, but it didn't excuse their incessant screaming. 

"We need to get to the maintenance access tunnels, they will take us to the escape pods and we can jettison ourselves. I doubt the innies know you specifically are here, but that doesn't mean they wont recognize you. Put this on. And to answer your original question, no. This is all I found, I didn't get a chance to rifle through his britches...ma'am."


"You don't have a wife, so it shouldn't have been a problem." Her gaze narrowed on the man before her, as he bobbed his head over and out from the bar like one of the prairie dogs she had seen on a trip to The United Republic of North America. He stopped long enough to give her his plan and hand her a makeshift bandanna meant to cover her face. Reluctantly, the woman slipped it on, wondering if it was more for the protection of her identity than it was to muffle her constant criticisms of Ryker. She trusted for his sake that it was the former. 

"You better have bigger balls than the ones attempting to pull this asinine stunt off." Of course he did, she had records covering his entire career, and even in his advanced age he was still quite the field agent. Whether Ryker had heard her or not, he mounted his weapon on the bar long enough to train a shot on some insurrectionist that she refused to risk a glance at. He prepared for is shot, and a loud pop did yet another number on her ears as Ryker released a single shot. She heard a thud, and that was it. When she finally caught the gull to glance over the bar, she could see why. The man that had been seemingly tending to the man with the wounded arm was already far gone, pieces of his shoulder and throat painted along the table they had used for cover like some disgusting work of art. 

She glanced away after a while, knowing that it was only a matter of time before reinforcements arrived. Eventually, her gaze caught onto an inconspicuous panel of wood with a minimalist sigh punched into the wall above it, a sign with the word maintenance. Valerie let one of her hands catch onto Ryker's weathered forearm, squeezing it to get his attention. "That might be our way out." She stated in a hushed tone, jutting her chin in the general direction of the passageway. 

[Faclan]

Tags: Llau, LaxKnight

Christopher John Hyde.
ONI Section I Scientist, Xeno-Linguist.
Grand Ballroom, at a tipped over table.
Find allies, support....fffff.

Still holding out the SMG for Trisha, and she had proved to be a very good shot so far, Chris peaked over the table cover they had to spot Mike glaring at the stage. Probably where Remmy had been taken...poor girl. They would do their damndest to get her out of this. She didn't deserve this, no-one here did. Glaring a bit at the few Terrorists he could see he finally brought the SMG back into his grasp as he glanced down and looked over the weapon a bit as he tried to guess which lever was the charging handle. At least it was easy to see how many bullets were left since the magazine on the top of it was translucent. Seemed like...thirty ish were left? It was a lot like the smaller M7, just with the magazine on the top instead of the side (Is a P90). But when he finally pulled on the only lever he could assume as the charging handle, back enough to see if a round was in there then letting it go, he was shoved back as Trisha looked really worried. Then the roar of a machine gun and several other weapons made Chris keep his head down.

The news when he looked back up again was very bad. Trisha was dead, the LMG was still pointed in his direction, and he could hear footsteps heading his way. Gripping the SMG tighter Chris grit his teeth and prepared. Thankfully, for himself, unlike with Aliens he had no desire to save Innies, so shooting them in the face made him barely pause. Take the advantages where you can get them and all that. He did feel terrible for Trisha though...she just wanted to save Remmy. But he would have time to morn with the terrorists were dead - he needed to get to Mike fast.

Leaning out of the side of his cover with the SMG ready to fire the Xeno-Linguist sent slightly longer than needed bursts into the two terrorists closing in on him - who were thankfully watching the top of the table and unable to bring their weapons to his new location in time. Glancing at the magazine as they dropped he guessed there were ten rounds left. Taking out the single spare mag he reloaded and tossed the nearly empty mag to the side and broke from cover. Grabbing the terrorists rifle but no spare mags he sprinted through the tables until he could see Mike properly, but he was surrounded by terrorists. That would prove very problematic as he tried to keep a look out for more baddies and to see if there was a way he could help Mike.

(Hope that works, feeling a bit lost with this thread unfortunately D: )

(Edited since Mike is surrounded by turrists, so Chris couldn't get to him.)

[Cheddar]

Corporal Maxen Titus
The Ventilation System
Operation: SNAFU
Tags: Daenerys Targaryen
He poked his head in the vent and looked around. It was cold and slightly dusty, fine particles filled the air they had disturbed when removing the grate. Maxen took a final look behind him at Felicity who gave him a reassuring nod.

"This is exactly what the fuck I wanted to do for leave."

He crawled in on his hands and knees, noting grimly that his suit was completely ruined, then smiled at himself for the thought. He crawled in enough to allow Felicity in behind him and waited for her to pull the grate back into place. It didn't quite fit and after about thirty seconds of fighting with the vent cover, Maxen heard her huff and then felt her tap him on the leg.

"Alright, off we go. Just don't stare at my ass"

They crawled further into the vent, Maxen would occasionally use a small lighter that he kept in him, to provide brief periods of illumination so they could see each other when they talked. Aside from those times, he led them mostly by feel once they moved away from the light of the hallway.

They had no idea where the ventilation shaft led but anywhere was better than the place where people with guns shot anything that moved. Taking their chances in the vents had seemed like a much better option than getting captured or shot. Maxen hadn't put up much of an argument, he just hoped Felicity's biofoam held.

Their journey hit a dead end at one point, a vent hatch that had been sealed off for maintenance. He had to wait for Felicity to awkwardly back down the vent before he could do the same and then move onto a different path.

"Just remember," he said to himself, "you love this job."

Maxen would peridocally check behind him, to make sure Felicity was keeping up. He never said anything to her about it, knowing that to do so would only irritate her. Still, after about twenty minutes, they took a break.

She was starting to lag behind and it was obvious that though the Sergeant was fighting through the pain, her wound was still slowing her down.

"Take it easy, hold up." Maxen awkwardly looked under his left arm at her as she stopped behind him on her hands and knees, head hung down while she took a deep breath. He lay down, rolling onto his side to give his knees a break. After twenty minutes they hadn't seen so much as a light.

He knew they weren't on the same level they'd started, due to the several ups and downs they'd taken, but now that they'd been in there for so long, he was looking for a way out, no matter where it was. Judging from her condition, Maxen could tell that Felicity felt the same way.

They rested for a few minutes until Maxen felt the tale-tell tap on the back of his leg. He nodded and took one last look with the lighter before closing it and pushing it back into his pocket. They set off, less enthusiastic after they'd experienced a brief period of rest. They pushed through the feeling and soon the enthusiasm returned as the pitch black of the vent shaft became a few shades lighter.

"Well I'll be damned, light at the end of the tunnel. Let's hope it leads to knee pads."

They crawled towards it, Maxen especially enjoyed the prospect of getting out of the vent. He paused when they came to the source of the light.

It was a ventilation grating build into the cieling of what looked like a medical bay. As he tried to get a better look, the screws holding the grating in place gave way and all 200 pounds of ODST crashed through th cieling into the room bellow.

He slammed into a cart full of medical instruments, sterilized in foil packets and arranged on a tray. When he was done, they lay in every corner of the room. Maxen lay there for a moment, feeling a spreading ache already forming in his back from the fall. He assessed himself and decided that he was ok, just that he was too damn old for this shit.

"I'm fine, Just redecorating. With my body."

He heard a snort echo down the shaft and he grinned. Then the grin faded as he stood up. "Alright, crawl past the vent as best you can and then lower your legs down here to me. I'll try to be gentle."

[Cabel]

[Inner Colonies: Sol System: Orbit of Jupiter: Day 4: Sol‘s Jewel: Grand Ballroom: Captain Mark “Spade“ Seamus Sorelson: Echo Company, 120th MEU: Operation: Ball Interrupted]

Struggling with the massive Insurrectionist that could have been his old Grenadier Master Sergeant Keith “Doberman” Dennis’ brother or cousin twice removed as the massive Insurrectionist attempted to dislodge him, Mark made sure his grip remained strong despite the pounding his back was taking each time the Insurrectionist had slammed him back against an adjacent bulkhead. One of them had been bound to tire eventually, and Mark doubted his opponent would let him catch a few breaths before tackling him.

A loud clap emanated, echoing off the walls of the stairwell and the massive Insurrectionist with his marine passenger dropped to the deck. Catching sight of a pool of blood quickly spreading from beneath his opponent, Mark heard the man attempt to cry out a vulgarity when the aging marine grabbed both sides of the man’s head and quickly snapped his neck. Hearing a crack before the man’s body went limp, the aging marine slipped off the man’s back making sure not to step in the man’s blood. Turning back around, Mark’s eyes fell on a sight he’d never expected and hoped he’d never have to witness again. Standing before him on the other side of the stairwell holding an over-sized M6D magnum in his hands, Malcolm’s son stood mostly in shock and the other half in a sense of exhilaration Mark had known in many young recruits during his time as a D.I. and had even experienced himself what had seemed a lifetime ago. Following the young man’s aim to where the massive Insurrectionist had last stood along with the location of the pools of blood, Mark knew why the man had doubled over.

“Never shoot a man in that spot again. Even I could feel that,” Mark whispered before reaching over and peeling the young man’s fingers from the grip of the magnum before checking the magazine. “It’s alright, Nathan. You did the right thing, but next time aim a bit higher,” he said, in a more fatherly, caring tone knowing Malcolm’s son had only intended to do the right thing.

“Mark…” Alyssa whispered before handing her husband the M3 Grease Gun, to which he took in hand. Quickly checking the magazine by sliding it out of the weapon, he’d slap it back into place and checked the dead Insurrectionist’s bandoliers for any other spares or any other weapons. Finding the man’s bandoliers had been full, he’d counted ten spare .45 ACP thirty-round box detachable magazines for the Grease Gun and confiscated them. Rolling the man over, he’d slid the bandoliers over the man’s shoulders onto his own and snapped them into place. Cocking the Grease Gun’s bolt, he’d grip the handles firmly and quickly gestured to the others including Admiral Vardy and Malcolm to a duct vent large enough for a person to squeeze through. Although, when Mark set foot on one of the false wooden deck panels he’d heard a hollow sound beneath. Kneeling, he’d felt around the deck panel with his right hand feeling around for a flow of air coming from beneath the decking plating even though that panel appeared to have been cut to fit smoothly with its surrounding plates. Feeling a slight, an ever so slight cooling of air from around that plate, he’d set the Grease Gun on the plating next to him and well within reach if he’d needed it.

Taking the Kabar he’d confiscated from the dead Insurrectionist he’d recently fought with, he’d slowly use it as a lever to prop up one corner of the panel before managing to slip his fingers beneath it. Knowing the Admiral and Malcolm had been keeping watch in case their Insurrectionist friends had decided to pay them a visit, Mark had been able to quietly lift the panel up and to the side.

Placing one hand on the deck plating adjacent to the panel he’d removed, he’d opted to use the titanium of the Kabar’s blade as a quick means to check the area below without putting himself or the others in danger. Slowly lowering the blade through the opening while keeping a grip on the Kabar, the form of a human Insurrectionist reflected briefly off the blade and while keeping absolutely quiet checked the reflection to make sure there hadn’t been others waiting in the corridor. A single Insurrectionist had opted to man the corridor since the others had obviously felt that anyone attempting to the flee the ballroom would have been stopped by the pressure bulkheads, and to Mark’s delight he’d found the lone Insurrectionist had appeared completely bored out of his skull only kept in line out of fright by his leader inside the ballroom. It hadn’t hurt their chances that the lone Insurrectionist had stood a few feet down the corridor facing away from them.

Pulling the Kabar back through the opening, the aging marine gave a quiet gesture to the others to remain quiet and gave another gesture to both Malcolm and the Admiral that there had been a single Insurrectionist below. Mark knew he’d be quieter without the M3 Grease Gun in hand knowing one of the others could have lowered it after he’d dealt with the lone Insurrectionist, and with the Kabar in hand quietly lowered himself through the opening to land on his feet on the carpeted floor below. Without making a sound, Mark crept up behind the lone gunman and slipped his left arm around the man’s throat in a blood choke hold. Slamming his right knee into the man’s lower back, he’d heard the man’s back shatter and discs shift. Feeling the man’s body go limp, he slowly checked the man’s pulse with his free hand and on finding a lack of a pulse he’d walk back along the corridor around the bend. Finding a janitor’s closet, he’d test the door before dragging the man’s body into the closet. Frisking the man’s body, he’d find the man had been armed with a Steyr-AUG bullpup designed assault rifle complete with the scope. Checking the man’s jacket and pockets over for spare thirty-round detachable box magazines he’d found five magazines in pockets within the man’s jacket and ten magazines carried in the backpack the man had been carrying.

After checking for the man’s pulse again to find he’d remained deceased, Mark quickly ejected the attached magazine to find it full and slapped it back into place. Chambering a round, he’d snapped the bolt back and cocked it before sweeping both sides of the corridor with the rifle before leaving the closet. He’d locked the closet door behind him, even jammed the lock and took up a position behind one of the bends in the corridor. Gesturing to the others to follow, he’d taken the man’s backpack and the fifteen thirty-round magazines he’d found on the poor Insurrectionist. At least now, most of their party would be armed. Considering he’d managed to take an M3 Grease Gun with the two bandoliers of thirty-round box magazines for it, he’d let Admiral Vardy have the Steyr-AUG assault rifle with its fifteen box magazines of 5.56x45mm rounds.

<Tag Bones, David Prime, anyone else>

(OOC: Bones, I hope you don't mind that I mentioned Nathan in the post. If it's an issue, I'll alter the post. I do apologize)

[TinCanHitman]

Teyo 'Hyena' Triste  

Hero's Ball

...until some body gets hurt.

Teyo didn't wait much after the woman was killed, and thus missed the slaying of two more of his friends. Instead he had been beckoned into the back by Miguel, who was looking grimly at his Tac-pad. "We have a problem, sir." he said before handing Teyo the device. It cut to a picture of the frigate they had appropriated. It showed the pelicans entering, and then just the still side of the ship. However, as the seconds ticked by small blooms of orange light could be seen as fire fights broke out in the hangars. Teyo gritted his teeth as he looked at Miguel "How long?" "Twenty minutes. The frigate can only hold out for a while, and with the messages I'm getting from the boys, they came in heavy. I fear that this may not be going as we wished..." Teyo turned and ran his fingers through his hair while he though, trying to not have an outburst and worry his men further.

His plan was...had failed and he now was stuck with two options. He could attempt to take the entire cruise liner, and take it into hiding, a very difficult option. Or he could escape using the docked life boats, a much more practical solution. Teyo grabbed the walkie talkie on his chest and spoke. "Brothers, the UNSC bastards have ripped our ship from our hands and are now forcing us to flee or die. Though I am of the mindset of fighting to the last man...we must consider our future. We are the most capable of our people, and we cannot afford to leave them unguarded to the tyranny of the 'government'. We must leave, so we may fight. Fall back to the escape points, use pair tactics. Barracuda, Great White, finish leaving our friends with their parting gifts." Teyo turned and crouched to be level with the little girl. "Alright, the game is finally starting, we can't get caught, okay?" he asked, reaching out for the girl's hand.

Sam 'Great White' Barkly 

Hero's Ball

Gift Giver

Sam hefted the bomb coat in his hand and moved over to where the armless girl was sitting. He grabbed her shoulder and forced her into the coat, the task being much easier since she only had one arm to get secured. He closed the coat and latched the two metal bits at her midsection. "Don't try and open this, you'll die." he said bluntly before pushing the girl onto her back, he didn't want her getting up to quickly. He turned to Harley, or Barracuda as he was dubbed this mission and nodded. "Make sure they look important, and make sure you warn them what this will do if they fuck with 'em. We don't need a hole in this ship bleeding atmosphere.

Terrance Ryker    

Hero's Ball    

No party for old men 

Ryker cast his gaze back to Valarie as she tapped him and directed him to the tunnel. As soon as he saw it he nodded, more to himself than her, and ushered her over to it. "You go first, I'll cover the rear." He gave her some time to climb in, and then he himself turned and climbed in back first. He used his left hand to stabilize and then used his feet to push his across the cold metal. If Ryker had been a younger man, or even cared, he would have probably been a bit awkward with how much he was pressed up against the assistant director, but he was to concerned with their safety and covering the exit to care.

He could hear scrambling and gun shots, as well as screaming, and he knew things were getting worse. He was surprised the UNSC hadn't busted down the doors yet, but he didn't know all the details. It all reminded him of his field days, in truth. Crawling through ducts, dodging terrorist, saving women even, it really all got the blood flowing and with the sudden calm of a repetitive task he was actually able to finally put his finger on the feeling he had had since this whole thing had started. It was fun. He loved this, he loved being in the field, he loved knowing that every turn was danger, and that his wit and skill alone was what was keeping him alive. He'd never say he enjoyed the death of innocent people, but in truth that really didn't occur to Terrance. He could only think about how happy he was that he wasn't retired.

((Sorry for the delay folks, really been busy with my real life stuff. Hope every one is still interested.))

[Daenerys Targaryen]

Official Notice

Due to the lack of interest, and the lack of recent posts on both the community and my own's part within this roleplay. This thread will be officially closed.

It is safe to assume that a few deaths occured, but after the ODST's entered the space yacht. Things definitely got tactical. The guests and special operations forces were able to gain the upper hand, the the terrorists were soon either dispatched or escaped.

After an all clear was sounded, the normal passengers and staff were evacuated to Jupiter's moons where they were either hospitalized or questioned by local UNSC and ONI officials regarding the incident. Soon after, all guests and staff were released and allowed to return to their lives, whatever that might entail.

The big corporations behind the luxury cruise gave monetary compensation to all staff and guests attending the luxury cruise that night, and though the sums of money were not massive, they were very generous considering the luxury cruise was free to begin with.

~We hope you all enjoyed this thread, even though it sputtered out in the end, cheers!~