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Halo: Militia (RP)


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Taylor stared his sergeant in the eyes, and Taylor didn't back down either, the Sarge didn't scare him, nor did execution. He flipped the large gun around, and handed it to his officer, grunting at him, and walking into line jaggedly with his squad, his armor felt new, green, if you will. It shone in the light, along with everyone else's armors. As he waited, he turned to Marvin, and quietly muttered in his ear, "Sorry for getting you in trouble Marvin." as he yet again faced forward, and waited. Taylor was tired of waiting, he turned his head out of the line and said,

 

"Hey Sarge? What's the objective of the game, if you don't mind me asking?"

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Marvin gave a surprised look at Taylor, And quietly muttered back, "It`s fine Taylor, Im just trying to get known here instead of being a nothing. And anyways, Its better than you getting in trouble, Being an ex-criminal and all, No?" Marvin turned his head back into straight formation.

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Grec closed his eyes momentarily, he wasn't a religious man by any stretch of the imagination, but sweet Jesus, he was sending up prayers for these two. They just didn't know when to cut their loses. If the Staff Sergeant just suddenly whipped around and slapped a *****, Andrew wouldn't have batted an eyelash.

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"We'll explain it once you and your boyfriend are done talking," Geza spat in Taylor's face, turning away.

 

Gabe watched the scene from a distance with his arms folded. For a brief second, he glanced over his shoulder at the ODST corpsmen, the men and women who had been assisting the recruits since day one. Now, they were gearing in full titanium-black, and contrary to the MA5 assault rifles being toted by the recruits, these Helljumpers were prepping themselves with BR55s and Reach Armories' M392 Designated Marksman Rifles. SRS anti-materiel rifles seemed like overkill, but at the same time they ported shallower magazines, heavier weight, and greater recoil, which meant slower target reacquisition.

 

The DMR had deeper magazine, fired 7.62s, and while they had a kick, they weren't as heavy as the 14 millimeters fired by the SRS. In the hands of a skilled shooter, targets could be taken down by the twos. If the recruits hadn't gotten the hint, Gabe pitied them.

 

"Are we done? If everyone ready to listen again? Because we can stand here all night."

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"Yeah, Sarge." D.J. nodded. He shifted the AR on his hands again. no matter how he held it, it felt foreign. Maybe it was mental. He knew he wouldn't be able to use this weapon to it's best capacity. He looked longingly at the heavy caliber Sniper.

 

Boy, He thought, I'd love me one of those...

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They had ten minutes. Oliver and Mickey were swept with the large cluster of recruits exiting the lecture room. They followed the flock to where the armour and weapons were stored, budging past others politely to find some sets of their own. A few passive shoves later, the two of them came across a set each, next to each other.

 

"Damn. Never thought I'd be putting something like this on." Mickey grinned, marveling at the matt olive-drab plating that didn't shine in the light whatsoever, except for the polished silver buckles. Oliver admitted that the plating added to the M52B armour was cool-looking, but it made it heavier than when he used to use it for CombatSim on the training fields back home. That was a fun job.

 

"Maybe you should actually think about putting it on then." Oliver smiled, strapping the last piece of armour onto himself. It was damned heavy, but it was manageable and made him feel a little safer than when he just used the vest. Mickey looked back at him dumbly.

 

"Er, I have no idea how to---" he was cut off by his own stupidity as he somehow trapped his arm between a strap and a plate, causing it to stick up at a weird angle; Mickey's awkward grin did nothing to rid of the image of a brain dead monkey in Oliver's mind. "Lil' help?"

 

It took a few extra minutes than he liked, but Oliver helped him with the armour, tightening the last straps on his legs. Oliver then picked up his MA5 in his left hand, finger alongside the trigger, and his helmet in his right. Mickey mimicked him, but with the opposite hands, and they walked out, past the remaining ten-to-fifteen recruits still donning their gear.

 

They joined the others who were ready, standing in the line. Oliver would have been out here a few minutes ago if he didn't have to help Mickey, which would have made a good impression. He dismissed the thought of not helping his friend to look good though: he wasn't a complete ****, after all.

 

"Thanks, Ol." Mickey whispered to him from beside him on the line. Oliver nodded.

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Marvin, Being the one who to himself thinks is just the blacksheep, Wanted to be able to become someone to remember, Marvin shut down all sense just so he can listen, and respond to important questions/statements. Marvin thought to himself "Man, People here must think Im mentaly insane or unstable. I better shut up and just do what I`m told......" Marvin looked like he just got shot, But thats just how he shuts himself up.

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As things quieted down, Gabe brought his full attention to the group. "Straighten out and listen up, because I'm only going over this once. The object of this exercise," he took a moment to glance at the fading orange glow on the horizon before, "should be simple enough for you to understand, but not so easy to carry out.  Behind you is a wing of Pelicans that you'll be taking to the middle of nowhere. You'll be expected to make it back on your own. You have all the time in the world to accomplish this task by my standards, and ideally you'll get it done as a whole platoon. However, that probably won't be the case..."

 

He took a step back, stabbed a thumb over his shoulder and then crossed his arms. "Behind me is a set of Light Recon Vehicles, their combined passengers numbering up to a squad's worth of seasoned ODSTs, people I trained through OQT personally. Their patience isn't as infinite as mine, and their task is to make sure you don't complete yours. In other words, you're mission is to survive as the most dangerous game on the planet, and that is why you won't be arriving at one hundred percent efficiency. And with that in mind, I'll understand if you come back in say...thirty percent, about fifteen of you. We'll call that passing material. Any questions?"

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Name:  Aaron Szürke

Age: 18
Physical Appearance: 5'10, dark hair, dark eyes, slightly tan skin, average build.
Rank: Recruit
Uniform: Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform
Birthplace: Reach - New Alexandria
Personality: Passive and willing to learn.
Background: Aaron never really thought much of what he'd do after Secondary/High School. After hearing from friends and family that many of his former classmates and close friends had enlisted with the UNSCDF, and were shipping off to training camps across the planet, Aaron couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt in him. They were the same age as him, and they were willing to lay their lives on the line, even knowing that the Covenant were out there somewhere. Andrew was never one for taking risk, hell, he had never been in a fight before, but the knowledge that his friends would be out there fighting for their home eventually became too much. He may not be out there with them, but at least he could help make sure they had a home to come back to.

Skills: Familiar ENOUGH with firearms to shoot and reload them. Not much beyond that.

 

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It wasn't exactly the best attitude to have, but this exercise seemed like it would be fun. Shields had done similar things back home, but that was against neckbeards and kids. They were supposed to go up against a dozen Shock Troopers? Were they mad? Did they want them to get shot? He looked dumbly at the ground - of course they wanted them to get shot.

 

"I have a question, Staff Sergeant." Oliver piped up, his first time speaking to the Staff Sergeant formally, if you were to exclude the brief apology in the lecture room. "Are we just running in there, or are we going to be placed into organized teams, Staff Sergeant?" 

 

The thought of running around with a bunch of brainless recruits that didn't really know anything, other than the "tactics" they'd picked up on in video games or movies, scared the hell out of him. Some form of order would have been better than the Headless Chickens Platoon. Mickey looked at his bud next to him, agreeing with the words he spoke. He acknowledged, however, that Shields would probably get b*llocked for trying to catch Kawolski out. That, or the Staff Sergeant would just laugh at him and enjoy it the most when he got shot.

 

Okay, that sounded a lot more like the stereotypical Drill Instructor that Mickey had gathered from games and movies.

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Name: Jason B. Aves
Age: 22
Physical Appearance:  Jason is of average height, coming in around 5'11" with a toned, slim build and lightly tanned skin.  He isn't particularily out of shape, but don't be expecting him to knock out one hundred push-ups easily or run very far very fast.  Jason suffers from an archaic genetic anomaly that left him with "flat feet."  Due to that, he has a hard time running long distances or even being walking quietly if he isn't focused on the task.  His dirty blonde hair is tapered from a near-skin buzz on the sides and back to a little over the maximum regulation length (roughly three inches) on top with bangs that were actually a bit longer, but it stays out of his eyes and--on a passing glance--looks acceptable.  His face is framed by a strong jawline.  His kind, hazel eyes are crowned by a slightly protruding brow courtesy of his Scottish descent that makes his eye sockets seem a little darker, almost as if he wore a very light permanent coat of eye shadow.
Rank: Recruit
Uniform: Olive Drab Battle Dress Uniform.  Wears a sentimental black leather band on his left wrist and a woven paracord bracelet on his right wrist.
Birthplace: Southeastern North America, Earth, but ran away to a semi-rural district of New Alexandria that had some farms and the such.
Personality:  Jason is a very moralistic individual with strong religious values.  He is also a hopeless optimist.  He tends to see people as good until proven otherwise.  He's very tolerant, resilient, humble, and easy to get along with.  One of his traits that he despises about himself is his tendancy to become very calm and collected under intense stress.  He can't help but feel that he should feel bad or be freaking out, but it is a desireable trait... or so he is told.  He likes to smile and can find a joke in just about anything, sometimes in the wrong situations.  He is very intelligent, remembers things easily, and is very intuitive.
Background:  Older brother of two and son to an IT and a clerk.  Jason butted heads a lot with his father throughout his life and grew a great resentment for him.  This only grew when his father seemingly abandoned his family to work offworld on Arcadia in 2545.  A year later, Jason ran away from home, caught a ride to Reach on a shipping freighter, and worked at odd jobs.  When he learned of Arcadia's glassing in 2549, he took it hard.  He looked for a higher purpose and started volunteering at youth ministries.  By 2552, he was heavily considering enlisting in hte UNSC.  He got wind of the local militia recruiting and decided that was a good stepping stone to start off with.
Skills:  Jason grew up wrestiling with his little brother and never lost.  Ironically, his little brother was the more athletic of the two.  He fights intellectually and is good at countering and submitting.  He's also a natural at shooting.  Not really a sniper kind of person, but handy with a rifle and able to put consecutive hits on target. 

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"I don't think you're reading us, Marvin," said Geza. "He means thirty percent of the platoon, that's about fifteen out of the forty-five present. If at least fifteen of you make it back here without getting tagged, that's a passing grade."

 

Gabe folded his arms, cocking his head at Oliver with a slight grin. "That's actually a good question, you know that? You should be proud of yourself for thinking ahead. In fact, why don't you start by stepping forward. You're my first squad leader. Anyone else want to volunteer their services? C'mon, there's forty-five of you and I need three more squad leads, who's it gonna be?"

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Marvin was dumb-founded, He then asked a different question. "Sir, if we are just trying to get back to base from a random area without dying, Isnt this practically just going to help us figure out a strategy for war? Like if we had a base set up and we were far out, Miles away,We would know how to get back without dying? Well hopefully not dying..."

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"Well, Marvin, since you've got it all figured out, you just volunteered yourself to be squad lead," Gabe finally said, giving the kid a half-glance before looking to Jones. "Good idea. One more to go..."

 

Gabe's eyes locked onto Kyro. "You. You're up. With four leads, teach of you should have about eleven per squad. One of you will have an odd man out. You guys do the math and load up within the next minute. Oorah?"

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Kyro had been trying to hunker down as much as possible as the sergeant's eyes ran over the crowd. He could see the other men behind the man making note of who was picked for lead. He knew that this meant a quicker "death" for him over the rest of his "squad" as some form of phsychological warfare. He grimaced and was thankful that the shades he had put on would cover any hint of fear which might have emerged in his eyes as he was picked and then checked his weapon for a third time.

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Jason's head dipped a little.  He could read a map, he could shoot a gun, but with a dozen of some of the best the UNSC has to offer against this rag-tag bunch... He pushed the thought out of his mind.  If he resigned now, he already lost.  The recruit lifted his chin and looked down the line of his fellow greenhorns, looking specifically for those designated as squad leaders.  He didn't really know what to think of any of them.  His experiences with them were minimal since he started militia training and was trying, despite his better judgement, to stay open minded.  That Oliver guy... he would probably be his best bet.  If he could get in his squad, then he might at least have a shot. 

 

No matter how this went down, the idea of incapacitating an ODST seemed like a good way to get on the DI's good side.  On the opposite end of the spectrum, that would probably mean the ODST would make his life a living hell from then on out.  The golden glare of Reach's sun glinted off of the ODST's visors and chilled him to the core as they appeared to be burning with fire.  He rolled his shoulders with the chill to try to play it off and not look like how he felt... scared a hair's breadth from death.  He didn't even know if he would be able to shoot at a person, training rounds or not. 

 

As the sun slowly dipped across the horizon and glared brightly in his eyes.  His yellow-tinted shooter's glasses did nothing to dim the flare.  He raised his hand to shield his eyes.  No matter how he played it in his mind, this was going to be like nothing he had ever experienced.  And it was going to suck.

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Aaron's palm sweated on the grip of his MA5C rifle and his throat was cotton-dry. He tugged at his CH252's chin strap nervously.  He did his best to stay calm, but judging from the nonstop thundering in his chest, he wasn't doing that well. ODSTs? How the hell were they supposed to win? It was like pitting a kitten against a mountain lion. And they needed fifteen to "survie" to pass? He'd consider it a miracle if anyone managed to make it back in one piece.

 

The recruit exhaled in temporary relief as the Sergeant named off the last of the squad leaders. He was glad he wasn't picked as a squad lead; he'd be terrible at it. He could barely hold his rifle straight and he nearly keeled over during the last PT run. People don't want the weakest link as their leader. Aaron really regretted not visiting the gym more often before he enlisted.

 

Now, a new question emerged. Whose squad was he in? Each squad would have eleven recruits, except for the one that would have twelve. Aaron peered down the line of forty-four recruits, noting the squad leaders espeically. He wasn't really familiar with any of them. It's not like any of them had been in training for that long. Really, to drop this challenge on the recruits seemed almost cruel. Aaron was almost sure they weren't supposed to win. Perhaps this exercise would be repeated over the course of their training to test how far they've come.

 

He hoped that was the case. There wasn't much shame in expected failure.

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Marvin looked over and noticed Aaron looking a little relieved and nervous, Marvin walked over after being chosen as a squad leader to try to comfort his comrade. "Don`t worry Aaron, You have a lot better of a chance surviving than me, I didnt know I was going to be a leader, But what can I say? We are human, Be lucky you`ve got the emotions man, Because you need fear to live... If youd like to be in my squad, Feel free. Its the odd ones that gotta stick together, No? But anyway, Id love to chat more but I have a plan to make. One that I`ll probably screw myself with... But no matter what happens, Good luck out there." Marvin walked away feeling like he was a good person, But he wasnt to sure.

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Seeing that most the people were already ready to go. Kyro motioned to each of the squad leaders to gather up and spoke, "Alright, we can all clearly see we're outmanned and outgunned here. We aren't gonna make it out of this without doing something a bit out of the ordinary and sacrificing some. I'm planning on using my group as bait, but I'll need ya'll to form an ambush nearby to put these overconfident b***ards down. Who all is in?"

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"Kyro, these guys ain't the Grenn street boys in Aszod, these guys mean serious business, I say we keep our heads down, and try to get out of this without firing a shot if we don't need to. even if we can get the jump on 'em, they've got way more experience than us."

 

D.J. Looked over to the ODSTs, casually talking like this was just another day at the office.

 

"We need to be smart about this, otherwise no one's making it back here."

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