D-38 Boss

Scott flipped on his radio. "Captain, this is Eagle 2-4. I don't have any bombs left, but I can still make a few strafing runs if you need them. I'll circle and keep the skies clear until you need me. Eagle 2-4 out." Scott checked his fuel reserves, another few hours of flight before he'd have to refuel...

Scott had managed to take out two of the three Banshees that he engaged, but the last one had slipped him up, and was now on his tail. His radio crackled, and Ivan's voice sounded in his helmet. "This is Ivan, shield's down. Fire away." Scott rolled his Longsword hard toward the kill-zone, and dove down, the Banshee right on his tail. "Get ready for the fire works in three..... two......one.... Bombs Away!" Scott punched a switch on his control panel, and dropped eight Mark 208 550 lbs. bombs onto the covenant forces. He pulled up hard to avoid slamming into the side of a building, which the Banshee tailing him wasn't quick enough to do. "Ivan, report."

Scott just blinked at the verbal abuse he received. "I could easily drop these bombs in the wrong place, pal..." Scott thought. He banked his fighter and circled over Ivan's sector. "Establishing Air superiority. If you can get that shield down, I'll thin out the ground forces." Three Banshees streaked toward Scott's sector in formation. Scott grinned underneath his oxygen mask. "Time to play..."

See, If I was able to stick around, the playdate might have stayed on for a while.

YOLO? Really? Just..... no. If you and your friends had your own show, do you think it would even be good? And answer honestly.

Scott trained his MG's cross-hair over the Banshee he was tailing. He gave the trigger a quick pull, and the .50 caliber Dum-dum rounds tore into it. The plasma cells overloaded and blew apart, sending scrap metal streaking across the sky. "This is Eagle 2-4, Kill confirmed. Sector Bravo-6 is clear." "Roger that 2-4, we're transferring you to ground support. A Scout named Corporal Barishnykov will direct you. Transferring channels now." A short silence enveloped the cockpit. "Man... CAS? Guess I won't be padding my kill count today..." His radio gave a short chirp, confirming his radio had been connected. "Hello? Corporal Bar.... Barish- Ba-... Corporal, This is Eagle 2-4 standing by for close air support. I've got bombs and bullets that need a new home."

Hello! welcome to the forums!

Ok.... I guess I can do that. Have.... fun?

Uhmmmm... Bye? Hope you change your mind!

Scott Haskell - Earth Orbit "Everything's reading green across the board." Scott said into his flight helmet, after performing his pre-combat checks on his GA-TL1 Longsword. "Roger that Eagle 2-4. you are cleared for decent into Earth orbit." Scott gently eased the nose of the fighter toward the planet's surface, and began entering the atmosphere.

Howdy! Welcome to the Community!

D.J. collapsed into his bunk, and drifted off into sleep almost instantly. One thing he was glad for, he could sleep almost anywhere, and sleep well.

Ty smirked to himself. "Yeah, keep coming... keep following me..." He uncloaked, and ducked behind a tree. His M-8A was empty, so he slung it across his back, and drew his Fifty-seveN Handgun. He stopped to catch his breath for a bit, before cloaking, and moving up towards higher ground. He hoped the mountain snow would be frozen over to hide his tracks, otherwise he'd have a hell of a time trying to lose them.

I use Fishstick. It's good because it's the universal FPS layout. That way I don't have to re-acquaint myself with the controls if I switch games...

I'm good to go. but it's up to you.

ISSUE RESOLVED!

Wait... I did that? I can't even find it....

Name- Scott Haskell Rank- Senior Airman (Sergeant level, just in Air force terms) Service Tag- E-24 (Eagle 2-4) Longsword Pilot Appearance(physical and face)- Rather average, and most would say overweight. 6 feet even, 325 pounds, with medium brown hair, and a full beard. Armour- Flight suit. Weapons - M6C Magnum. Specialty - Universal Pilot. Split second reaction times, High G force tolerance. Backstory - Nobody in Eagle has more confirmed kills than Scott Haskell, but you'd never guess it by looking at him. He tends to be extremely quiet on his own time, but behind the seat of his Longsword, he becomes a different person. Confident, Cocky, and sometimes annoying. most people overlook this, as having him on Close Air Support is like having your own personal MAC working for you.

Oh, In Halo? Can't beat getting Vehicle Jacked, and driving off of a cliff with your attacker clinging on for dear life. Warthog - $500,000 Spartan - $100,000,000 The look of sheer terror on your attacker's face as you plummet to certain death - PRICELESS. Master Card, Master Chief.

Really 343? Earth? You showed EARTH in your game? Copying Reality.... Have you no shame?

Well, A: that doesn't actually work. Inertia would see to it you only lost a small fraction of your momentum, and you'd still be in trouble. But for the sake of attempting to answer the question in the manner intended: I'm gonna go and guess, because trying to do the math didn't really help... Jump around the 3rd floor?

DId you know HaloGeek started one of the first forum RP threads, and it reached over 40 pages?

New Mombassa, October 20th 2552, 4:00 PM TREC 1 was still fighting off the Covenant attacking the Hospital. For every Brute they killed, two more showed up. The Pelicans that had been dispatched to them were 20 minutes overdue. Mathison switched his radio channel to Command’s frequency. “Command! TREC 1 is heavily engaged on 8th street! Where are those birds?” “TREC 1, they were attacked by Banshee’s on the way in. They’ll get there, just hold on for a few more minutes.” “We might not have a few more minutes!” “Do you need air support? We have Longswords on standby.” “That would’ve been nice to know! Bring ‘em in! Targets are on 8th street, danger close!” “Copy that, connecting you to Firehawk 3-1.” A short static took over, and a quick tone confirmed his radio was connected. “TREC 1, this is Firehawk 3-1. I’ve got bombs that need a new home. Can you pop smoke to mark your targets?” Mathison pulled a Smoke grenade off of his belt, pulled the pin, and tossed it over the wall. “Smoke’s up! Be careful, they’re right on top of us!” “Turning now. Bombs away in one minute.” Lugo turned to Mathison. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” “What?” “The new guy?” “Oh S---…” Mathison scrambled to change his radio channel. “Kid! We’ve got air support coming in! You need to get out of there!” “Oh crap…. Alright, I’m moving now!” Ty broke off from the brutes he was exchanging fire with, and moved up the street towards the Hospital. He dashed across the street and leaped over the wall Lugo and Mathison used for cover. “Howdy! Miss me?” “Yeah, I almost hit you a few times though.” Lugo said with a smirk. “Oh, how nice….” Ty said, rolling his eyes. Their radios crackled. “TREC 1, Firehawk is coming in, and the talons are out. Keep your heads down.” A Longsword fighter streaked down and followed 8th street, Heading directly for the hospital. “Bombs away.” The twin 500 pound Dumb-bombs dropped from their rails, and screamed toward the ground. “Get down! Now!” Mathison shouted, before getting as low to the ground as possible, Lugo and Ty doing the same. The bombs hit just a few feet off where the smoke grenade was, and exploded, tearing the attacking brutes to bits, and spewing blood all over the street. “TREC 1, confirm on drop?” Firehawk 3-1 said into his Mask. Receiving silence. “TREC 1, Respond.” Mathison pulled himself up and wiped the blood off of his helmets visor. “Good effect on target Firehawk… I’ll send ya my laundry bill.” He said, flicking some brute bits off of his shoulder. “Roger that, TREC 1. Might wanna move downwind before you start to stink. Firehawk 3-1, out.” “Man… I wanted to watch the explosion…” Lugo said, hanging his head. Ty was still sitting on the ground. “Can you give me a hand Lugo?” “Sure, here ya go.” Lugo giggled as he dropped a Brute’s severed hand into Ty’s lap. “Oh God!!” Ty shouted as he scrambled to his feet, wiping the blood off of his pant legs. “Don’t do that!!” “Oh come on! You HANDED me that one.” Lugo said with a cheesy smile. “Are you two ladies done?” Mathison sighed. “The Pelicans are here…” Back at the Hospital, Logan was already loading civilians onto the evac flight. “Alright people! Listen up!” Mathison bellowed, getting everyone’s attention. “These fine UNSC pilots are gonna take you to the Garuda, Our own little slice of heaven. Once there, you’ll be checked in, and you can eat, sleep, or look for your loved ones. We have 4 other teams evacuating civilians as we speak, so if you don’t see them right away, don’t freak out. Wait a bit, and they may show up on the next flight. Good luck, and Godspeed.” Lugo and Ty rushed over, having given similar speeches to the other two full Pelicans. “Everyone’s in.” Lugo said with a satisfied smirk. “Got it. Pilots! Get these people out of here!” The three pelicans lifted off, and rocketed away from the city, slipping past the Covenant cruiser as Longsword fighters kept up their assault. Mathison watched for a bit, and turned to his team. “Good work guys. Real textbook stuff.” “What part of the textbook talks about being covered in Pureed Brute?” Ty groaned, still trying to get the blood off of his uniform. “Oh chin up, Diva… Think of the story this’ll make!” Lugo said, fantasizing about all the female Marines he’d regale with his heroic tale. “Well, it sucks so far…” Mathison radioed the Garuda. “TREC Actual, this is TREC 1. Evacuation complete.” “Affirmative TREC 1. One moment.” Mathison sat on the steps of the hospital, thankful for the moment of silence, save for Lugo, as usual, talking up a storm. “I’m telling you, I got like… 10, on my own. How many’d you get Newbie?” “Three I think…” “Ha! You lose! What about you Blondie?” “15.” Logan said, patting his rifle. “Yes! I wi- 15? Damn it…” Lugo said, kicking at the ground. “It’s not about kills Lugo.” Mathison scoffed. “Says the guy who didn’t get any…” “I’m about to get one if you don’t check your mouth.” Lugo slinked away, and walked inside the hospital. Mathison’s radio clicked on. “All TREC teams, this is TREC Actual. Evacuation operations are complete. 8 Pelicans confirmed arrived. Two confirmed lost. Begin phase two; Recon the sectors you were assigned in briefing. Report any and all findings to us. How copy?” “Solid copy. TREC 1 is moving now.” Mathison said, jumping to his feet, and turning to his team. “Alright, here’s the- Where the hell is Lugo?” “He went inside…” “I swear, sometimes I just want to-“ Lugo sauntered through the double doors, helmet off, and a soda in his hand. “What’s up Sarge?” “Did you seriously just go get a soda?” “I said I wanted one, didn’t I? And Rookie here forgot to grab it while he was in the store.” “Yeah, I had a hard time deciding what was more important, my survival, or your thirst.” Ty scoffed. “Always think of the team first, kid.” Lugo said, before chugging down the rest of the bottle. “Lugo… I swear to god…” Mathison fumed. Lugo pulled another soda from behind his back. “I got you one Sarge.” “Can we at least TRY to act like professionals?” Lugo hung his head. “I was thirsty… sorry. I guess I’ll just throw this out.” “Well, I didn’t say I didn’t want it…” Mathison chuckled. “Hypocrite…” “Anyway,” Mathison said, taking the bottle from Lugo. “We’re starting phase two. We have two spots to Recon. An old weapons depot on the outskirts of the city, and the central park. If we wanna take a stand and stop these guys, we’ll need both. Lugo, you ‘n’ me are goin’ to the Depot. Logan, take Ty and scope out the park. Engage at your own discretion. Any questions?” “Where are the other teams going?” Lugo asked, slipping his helmet back on. “Targets closer to the Carrier’s area. Hopefully they won’t run into too many problems…” “Where are we meeting up after this, Sarge?” Ty asked as he adjusted his vest. “All teams are meeting at Evac-point Alpha. The courtyard of the Capital Building.” “Got it.” “Alright, you two are on your own from here. Keep radio use to a minimum. Got it?” “Yes.” Logan nodded. Ty gave Mathison a thumbs up. “Get goin’ boys, we’re on the clock.”