Crossin this here Jordan: A Coalition Soldier Quest

***

As far as private ventures go, Lord Splynncryth was most satisfied with his investment in this backwater world. Many thousands of cycles ago, with the help of a few mercantile contacts and PMCs, he had acquired the continent of Atlantis (dispossessing the natives and their primitive societies) as a base to launch numerous profitable enterprises from, and from which he had gained much standing in the Splugorth Empire at large from the many interesting specimens that he'd returned. A more short-sighted entrepreneur would not have perceived the value of a planet that couldn't even support a stable Rift Network, but after the appraisal of a few well-paid speculators some 13,000 local cycles ago, he was certain that purchasing the rights to the planet were well worth it. And oh, how I've been vindicated. Lord Splynncryth was a Splugorth, and to anybody who knew anything about Dimensional Travel, Planes, and the Three Galaxies, well, they'd know that Splugorth means business! Lord Splynncryth, of course, only represented his own private interests, and not those of the Empire specifically, but he was certain that with time, Earth, as it was so quaintly called by it's denizens, would grow to become a hub for trade, commerce and tourism, such were the sights to see. He'd make the case before the Courts, of course, but he'd first have to properly lay claim to the world rather than in name only, and in that regard, things were progressing nicely.

Regal ocular organs quivering within the mass of fine flesh and bone, attended to by some of the humans, a local species with much potential and that had been broken and trained for the purpose, long, majestic tentacles writhed as he contemplated past events from within an opulent bathhouse. He had received interesting offers through various intermediaries, claiming to represent some mysterious benefactor, asking himself for aid in manipulating the local polities for patently obvious reasons. He was going to encourage the most organized political entities on this planet to destroy themselves already, of course, but he supposed that inciting a war was one way to do it. Quite barbaric, but the additions to his library were well worth it, the tomes contributing immensely to his theories on the nature of being. He still held out hope for reaching his own Ascension one day, but for now, mere sorcerous pursuits must suffice until he could finally awaken his own Avatar and truly enter the big leagues.

After his usual morning rituals, Lord Splynncryth gathered a few attendants and unpaid interns to accompany him as he wandered the imperial palace that served as the headquarters of his company (named after himself, of course!), conversing with various stockholders, tourists, and well wishers. Later that day, he executed a few corporate spies, played some wonderful stategic simulations versus a promising human slave, invested in a few different up and coming corporations in Hel (not that Hell, and not to be confused with one of the hells), before finally pondering on the best way to kick off a barbaric war between what states survived on this backwater planet. There were a few crisis points he could intervene in, but he always preferred to be at least a little bit subtle.

Pick as many options as you want! Lord Splynncryth has many resources available to him, but the more he engages, the more likely some form of organized retaliation becomes. A minimum of 1 choice will be required to fulfill the terms of the bargain.

[] Frame the Coalition's soldiers as responsible for murdering citizens of the various Great Lakes Kingdoms.
[] Send intermediaries to assassinate key officials in the Vampire Kingdoms that oppose coordination with other states.
[] Frame the Federation of Magic as the culprit of a high profile campaign of violence against their neighbors.
[] Form Pacts with various humans in various states to instigate conflict between their neighbors.
[] Hire a few PMCs to instigate conflict with the Xiticix Swarms, causing them to frenzy.
[] Fabricate evidence of the Union's plot to overthrow- wait, they are? Ha!
[] Crash a few economies through well-timed interventions, generating instability.
[] Write-in. I'm sure I have a few more ideas, but perhaps I should consult my stockholders.

OR

[] Forget about subtlety and just wipe them out yourself. But this would take so much effort... [LORD SPLYNNCRYTH, A SORCERER OF GREAT POWER AND HEAD OF AN EXTRADIMENSIONAL MEGACORP, WILL ATTEMPT TO SUBJUGATE THE PLANET FROM HIS STRONGHOLD OF ATLANTIS]


AN1: I spoke long ago about generating a roadmap of what political actions would be taken over the course of a decade. This threw most of my plans into the fire.
AN2: The previous vote is still open and tied. I will arbitrarily choose one of the two options if it doesn't become untied when I tally again in 14 hours.

AN: Another long while has passed, and with it, so too has my phase of unproductivity. I made the mistake of trying to go into too much detail on things that were not directly relevant for writing, which further impeded my progress and desire to continue, so great had the barriers become. Combined with graduation, moving, and other life events, I've had neither the time nor the will to come back to this until I resolved to cut the creeping spread of irrelevant systems, and focus only on those things which are necessary to continue the Quest, with other parts being filled in as required and as time permits. The past week, my free time has been spent doing just that. Let this serve as slight recompense for my absence.

EDIT: 14 April, 2021. The formatting for this one got destroyed even harder than when I first posted it, lol.

---

The Old World Empire of Mexico had ever been the sister republic of its northern neighbor, and had come into its own during the late 21st​ Century before the Coming, the civil unrest and perpetual strife that had haunted it like a specter finally being put to rest as the last Golden Age swept forth like a tide, washing away pestilence, famine and poverty. Cancer was wiped out, dangerous microorganisms controlled. Few went hungry, and none starved. All aspects of civilization progressed. Global population skyrocketed, and Mexico soared onto the world stage as a secondary power; for a time, their people knew splendor and prosperity comparable with any great power. It didn't last.

The Rifts came, and with them, chaos. Few are those who remember the early days, and fewer still are those who remember the time before, but those who do speak with pride deserved of the valiant struggle to hold on to civilization and order, and afterwards, to rebuild. Mexico recovered swiftly compared to its North American neighbors; where America was rocked by volcanic ash, great floods, anarchy and 10 great epicenters, Mexico's suffering was far lesser in all degrees. Her volcanoes were not as powerful, her coasts not as vulnerable, and only her heart, Mexico City, was devastated by one of the super nexuses. The country was not forced to make the harsh decisions her neighbors had made, and in less than a decade, the situation was stabilized. Or so they thought. The Mexican government collaborated closely with her neighbors as soon as they were able, dedicating supplies, manpower, and human ingenuity to combat the apocalyptic shakeup of the world order. For the first time, Mexico was the premier power on the North American continent, her industries supplying America and Canada with as much as they could provide to bring an end to the anarchy. The three Old World Empires formed what would become the Coalition States soon after that. But demons and monsters didn't just come from the Rifts.

Unknown to most, the Vampires were native to Earth, residing in humanity's shadow and feeding in the darkness. There existed a Sect, known as the Sabbat, whose one desire was to ensure dominion of their ilk over all humanity. They ruled the shadows and the night, and their center of power? Mexico. And from those shadows, the Sword of Caine struck, unable and unwilling to pass up the greatest opportunity to reach their goals that they had ever borne witness to. Their success was almost total, and the scars they left were deep ones. They ruled Mexico, now, from the capital of Queretaro. But not forever. Humanity would not suffer the yoke of slavery, not when the will and the means remained to contest it. Mexico suffered more under the Sabbat's dominion even compared to the Coming. Their population, once near 300 million, had now declined to just over 200 million. The citizens of a once proud world power lay now in chains and bondage, their life blood both literally and figuratively drained by the parasitic overlords.

The 1AG entrenched itself deeply into the desert mountains of the Sierra Madre, expansive tunnel networks explored by her vast suite of enhanced senses and extending far beyond them. Over 1,500,000 Army soldiers comprised the forces of the 10th​, 14th​, 16th​, 20th​ and 25th​ Armies, with another 600,000 garrisoning the interior and the coast under the 6th​ and the 29th​. With the exception of CENTCOM, the Southern Joint Command was the largest collection of Armed Forces currently organized under the banner of the Coalition on the continent, and its full might was pressing down on the Sabbat. The Second Crusade on Texas had been broken in San Angelo; Dorete remembered reading about it from both federal and private media, the intervening time no obstacle. Over the course of several years, success after success saw the Coalition seize the initiative and turn the Sabbat's offensive back across the Rio Grande and the following pursuit through the Mexican frontier states. Monterrey was just the next step to reasserting sovereign rule, as it was quickly surrounded and isolated like the Sabbat had done to San Angelo years ago. But the toll had been heavy. There were many people that never returned home to Concordia, good people she thought were retired. More blood on the Vampires' hands.

The intervening months were not idly spent lying about for orders; the veterans of the unit filling in the blank spots in the education of the new Psi-Operatives while the unit recovered its operational strength. It was perhaps unsurprising that much of the information and training from Basic and Selection was inadequate for actual warfighting on the front lines, but the picture painted was grimmer, nonetheless. The 2nd​ Psi-Battalion was sitting at approximately 53% operational strength, having suffered tremendous casualties over the years of campaigning, despite the constant reinforcements. Less than one in a thousand people had sufficient Psionic Potential to be eligible, and that was before factoring in the physical requirements. To the surprise of no one, the unit had long passed the day it was supposed to withdraw from the front, everyone really knew that meant "indefinitely." Cynical folk, these veterans, and shockingly undisciplined besides, rebuffing any attempts to enforce compliance with the regulations and mocking the new recruits as being "very boot." In their words, a soldier ready for inspection wasn't ready for battle, and vice versa.

One of the first things they told the newcomers was to forget about everything they taught about Vampires during training. "They're not all the same, they've got some kind of tribal organization or something, and every tribe expresses their abilities differently." That wasn't what we were taught, at all. "Our boys have been documenting it for a while, the information you rookies got is decades out of date," continued SSGT Reynolds, a gruff Kinetic from Chi-Town. "They're tough, but they suffer from the same problems humans do, for the most part. Mechanical, neurological, and hydraulic stoppages will put them down same as us, just a little slower. Destroy their skeletal structure, their nervous system, their heart, and they'll feel it, even die from it. Fire stops their regeneration, and they get burnt to a crisp by UV lights. Forget the fancy shit about running water, or prayer or whatever other nonsense, it doesn't work and will get you killed. We can get into detail later, but those are the basics." She wouldn't forget it.

Trying to get used to military life was a struggle. There were few women here, and even fewer people who cared about the big picture, the Big Army. Folks cared more about the Little Army things, things like the lack of creature comforts, the constant shitty weather that'd irradiate and freeze to death any man outside their FEA, the bureaucratic inefficiency from having to do paperwork by hand because intranet never worked and systems were constantly going down, the technically nutritious but definitely not scrumptious rations that made one miss the classic American breakfast of eggs, bacon, and waffles, the cramped quarters and lack of privacy, the time spent sitting around waiting for something to do only to be told to do nothing, which they were already doing, the constant miscommunications that came with being involved in two separate Chains of Command, let alone the regular miscommunications that came from being in the Army. The veterans all said that once she'd been blooded, it wouldn't make things suck less, no, but it would put everything in perspective, which was pretty damn ominous if you asked her. Which you didn't. Even those things were distractions from the very real probability that they were going to die here. This wasn't a game. Some people treated it as such, and she couldn't fault them for trying to handle the situation in whatever fashion worked for them, but she'd seen a lot here even in the short time that had passed since Basic. Those numbers, the statistics, words on a page. They didn't encompass life. They couldn't make someone feel what war was. Long periods of boredom, so far. The looks in the eyes of the veterans told the other side of the story. These men were the elite of the elite. It was hard to find someone bold enough to try to give them orders that wasn't simultaneously respected enough for veterans to follow them. So they didn't try, and so they didn't follow the regs.

Much of Dorete's time was spent drilling, training the coordination and cooperation the squad needed, regardless of weather, which the veterans viewed as an excellent reprieve from fighting, and for good reason. Many of the exercises and drills, she could see the point of, as they honed specific skills necessary for survival in a combat zone, or necessary for executing a specific mission. Those, she had no problem with. She had earned quite the reputation for marskmanship, and there was an ongoing bet about the next time she'd miss a shot. Perhaps one of the more useless exercises, for her specifically, was close quarters combat training. "All that shit they teach you is out of date, man," the tall Puerto Rican, SPC Vicente, huffed during CQC drills. "You really think we need CQC when we blow shit up with our minds, man? Waste of time," which he promptly punctuated by tripping her up with a double leg takedown into an arm bar. Would've been painful, too, but she'd long since surpassed the durability of a normal human. Instead, she lightly shoved him into the air, to which he sighed, waiting for her to let him down from his now precarious 10 foot height above the drill ground. "Probably," she replied noncommittally. It wasn't like she disagreed with him.

Her fellow squad members were a varied bunch, and though they regularly partook in the time honored military tradition of bitching about everything, she kept an ear out for relevant tactical and personal information. The leader of the squad was SGT Rogers, an Anglo-German Hydrokinetic from rural Ontario, whose defining characteristics were his constant patience and thoroughness in making sure his soldiers got as many benefits he could get them, and his constant pessimism, not the easy kind to dismiss like the usual bitching, but the kind that was always backed up by statistics, experience and facts, only moderately lessened by his natural charisma and mild demeanor. He, especially, seemed to derive particular joy from constant drills.

The leader of Team 1 was CPL Cherry, a Heartlander from Indiana, Italian descent, whose personality was stereotypically outgoing for a Pyrokinetic. He was one of the veterans and often went out of his way to reassure others that no, they weren't all going to die, only most of them, which would have been rather counterproductive if not for his way of putting people at ease. The leaders of Teams 2 and 3 were a soft-spoken woman of Chinese descent, CPL Jiang from the Dakotas and the only other female in the Squad B, and a CPL Shaw from East Texas. The former was a Ghost and the latter a Pyrokinetic, same as Cherry. What few interactions she had with them outside of a professional context made it clear their interest in her was less than professional, and Shaw had already made a few passes. Maybe if they survived the oncoming Siege, she'd consider it seriously.

Dorete was one of three Master Class Psychics, the other two being another East Texan of Brazilian descent, SPC Booth, whose profound Clairvoyant abilities no doubt contributed to his survival in the unit until now, and SPC Rousseau, a Quebecois Stalker of Caribbean descent who grew up in the deep forests far away from civilization, both of whom excelled in their individual specialties. Booth especially would prove extremely useful, whenever he wasn't drunk on duty or getting into fights with the regulars. For someone who could see the future, he seems to get into the same problems with great consistency. Not that she could really judge them. Sophia and Norma got up to quite a bit of trouble themselves. They still wrote to her on occasion, though they'd been deployed to different units.

SPCs Cunningham and Esteban-Castillo were her other two team members, the former yet another Pyrokinetic from South Texas, European descent, the latter a rowdy Operator whose Telemechanic prowess made up for his lack of formal education. The Chilean was constantly getting into arguments about whose Spanish was proper Spanish with the others, and it wasn't like Vicente had any room to talk given the mess that was Puerto Rican Spanish, but evidently her attitude towards the whole thing had made Esteban view her with disgust, though her competing Telemechanic abilities likely also engendered some degree of envy in the man. Cunningham was much friendlier, the big man very exceptional all round, and he'd taken to mentoring her and the other boots, sorry, recruits. She liked him.

The other members of the squad were SPCs Douglas, Savage, and Terry. Douglas was another Operator, a West Texan of African descent, and a genius besides, with whom she'd talk shop and tinker with the equipment assigned to the unit. Savage was also a Psi-Tech, but he kept to himself and no one knew anything else about him, not even where he came from. Terry was another Pyrokinetic of the Squad, whose depression got everyone else down with him due to his Empathic nature, but no one had the heart to give him the stern talking to he needed so as long as he performed on the field. All his friends in the unit had died a long time ago. He seemed like a good man, but he didn't let anyone close to him. "Especially pretty women like you."

"You gonna let me down yet?" And finally, there was Vicente, whose personality was rather inscrutable due to his desire to lay low and not draw attention to himself, which alas was also undermined by being the final Pyrokinetic in the squad, and a veteran as well. "I will burn your rations if you don't let me down, Dorothy, don't think I won't." Ah, she was reviewing information about the squad again. And an original Wonderland joke, heard that one about 4,000 times in Basic. "It's Dorete," she replied, no real heat to the words. Still, no need to ruffle any feathers, or fan the flames in this case. She paused. The bad humor of the unit is already getting to me. She dropped the man as she kipped up to her feet, smoothly redirecting the jets of red flame the Burster used to slow his descent away from her. "All right, what do you say we spice this up a bit, yea? You and your bullshit, against myself, the Sergeant, and the other Dynamokinetics? This is boring me." That would be five versus one, and though the numbers were against her, she outclassed them easily in raw power. "No Electricity?" "Nah, you're enough of a heartstopper as is, woman, Iesus Kristos." Well then, this should be interesting.

---

The six of them were in CA-2s, polarized visors and armor plating making their body language somewhat more difficult to read. Currently, all of them were inside one of the empty vehicle depots which SGT Rogers had acquired the use of through a combination of charm and bribery. She eyed them carefully, monitoring their heart rates, their stances, blood flow, weight distribution, anything to give an advantage. The Hydrokinetic was going to have problems quickly, with no water supply, he'd be out of his element, so she expected him to do something unorthodox or resort to trying to slow her down. She doubted he'd be particularly successful, but it would be a nuisance nevertheless. He'd be the first to knock out. She considered. Could end it quickly and wrap them up with metal, but that wasn't the point of this. Turning her gaze, she looked over the others. Cherry and Shaw were confident, stances easy and loose, whereas Cunningham and Vicente were clearly telegraphing their intent to rush her. A simple and reckless plan, but no less effective for it. Physical attributes didn't matter too much in the arena of Psionic combat, as her being a woman could attest. She could kill a lot of people if she wanted to. A substantial part of the training at the Academy was judicious use of force and the responsible application thereof. No one would be dying today unless she intended it. Over the intercom, Booth declared the start of the spar, which she heard again a half moment later some few hundred meters away. She popped her shoulders and got to work.

The air pressure shot up inside the depot as she almost knocked them all off their feet straight away, immediately followed up by rapid waves of pure force, which were only barely resisted thanks to a coordinated barrier erected by Cherry and SGT Reynolds. The charge was already disrupted, the two chargers struggling to get to their feet in the wind tunnels she had created. She was about to follow up with a barrage of force javelins when she felt a sickening pull on her insides that nearly brought her to the ground, vision swimming, before she was knocked on her ass by Shaw's combustion wave. She would have glared at the Sergeant if she could overcome her sense of vertigo and nausea. Fortunately, her advanced electroreception and supernatural senses easily indicated the man's location, much closer to her than before, the clever bastard, and she tested strength against strength, pure force popping his defenses with some difficulty. SGT Reynolds quickly released the pressure on her as Booth gleefully announced, "You're out, Sergeant!" "God damn it," he grumbled, struggling to quit the field. Booth's running commentary was easily filtered out as she kipped up and assessed the situation.

The time she spent recovering had been well spent by her opponents; they had gotten busy setting the depot, themselves, and her on fire, which would certainly have concerned whoever was responsible for maintaining the place, and indeed was the cause of some slight consternation for herself. Cherry and Shaw were using the wind tunnel to fuel a massive column of fire, time to cut that out, whilst Cunningham had overlaid his own pressure over Vicente's so he could close the distance with her without him getting crushed like the Sergeant was. The amount of fire in the room was growing ridiculous quite frankly, but everyone was making sure neither the Sergeant nor the depot were harmed. She tried to trip up Vicente with another blast of air pressure, but he propelled himself forward with jets of red flame, forcing her to dodge quickly or reintroduce herself to the floor. They were all struggling against her raw power, but three of them combined were just barely able to hold her at bay as Vicente rained a constant firestorm upon her, trying to burn through her defenses. Her finesse just wasn't up to par to deal with it all at once, so instead she ignored Vicente and tried to crush Cunningham with almost full strength, focusing her Psionic Might like a pressure cooker around him.

Unfortunately, they had wizened up to her tactics, and Cunningham held just long enough for the others to support him. Then she was on the defense again, dodging a second and then a third stream of red fire from Cherry and Shaw, with only her supernatural reflexes keeping her in the game. They'd tag her eventually. Time for a new tactic. She rocketed forward, copying Vicente's move to clothesline Shaw, but Vicente tagged her with a combustion wave before she could reach Cherry, and she was dodging frenetically through the air again. "And that's Shaw down and out boys! What a copycat!" She could easily win this if she wanted to kill them, for they would struggle to resist against her ferrokinesis, but crushing her fellow soldiers alive with their own armor was counterproductive, to put it mildly. Instead, she tried to wrest the flames out of their control with brute force, as it was only three against one now, Shaw keeping his head down on the way out. Just as Dorete won the Psionic bind, Vicente let go; his flaming shield roared and crashed into her like a falling star, the resulting conflagration breaking both of their defenses. Only Cherry was still in the game since Cunningham apparently got tagged by the collateral when he tried to reinforce Vicente's defenses. "And the winner is Cherry! Give it up for the Indiana boy, ladies!" Polite cheering came through the intercom. Together, they restored the depot to order, as Booth continued to commentate and mock them like this was some kind of blood sport, other voices occasionally overheard. Naturally, none of them would have died if this were an actual fight, all of them except the Sergeant possessing innate resistances to heat and flame, but it still would have been unpleasant should things have continued beyond the arbitrary limit they set for safety.

More events like this helped pass the time amicably with the Squad, and her relationship with her fellow Dynamokinetics improved. As the only Master Class Dynamokinetic in her squad, and such a versatile one, too, the myriad options she had at her disposal and her incredible toughness won her a lot of respect, despite others outshining her in control. Her sensory and telemechanic capabilities got the lads wondering how well she'd do when they finally got her ass in an RPA, though as Jiang was quick to point out, she wouldn't mind seeing more of her out of one, too, the flirt, much to the amusement of the men. She learned much more about her squad as time progressed, and slowly the new recruits began to feel like a cohesive part of the unit. As was no doubt the intent. Still, it felt good to break bread with her fellows and forget about the upcoming fight. This, too, wouldn't last. They were too important a resource to not be used for long. She wasn't trying to get too attached to them, and avoided thinking too much about them. It'd be a detriment when they started dying.

---

The weather was horrific all month, no reason for it to be different now that she was going to fight. Even through her FEA, she imagined she could feel the harsh Northwind that had never ceased in her time at the front. Her company received its orders, and it was time to perform. Hours were spent in the early morning double and triple checking gear, ammo, supplies, and routes. Her Armor was functional, the mechanisms improved in her free time to better handle the stressful environment. The load bearing exoskeletal framework was the critical component of any infantryman's FEA, it is what allowed the bearer to carry hundreds of pounds of armored plates and equipment without breaking their spine, and their firearms were designed to be used with such a frame in mind. The only thing separating the infantryman's exoskeletal armor from an RPA was scale and energy output. Infantrymen generally didn't get laser point defense systems, autocannons and armor that could stand up to a recoilless rifle, unfortunately. The exoskeleton remembered how a soldier walked and assisted them, but it didn't really grant them super strength in the sense that one could suddenly lift up boulders. No, it only really helped with carrying gear and not collapsing under its own weight, as well as to support the firing positions of the bearer. Just as importantly, all Full Environmental Armors were, as the name indicated, rated to perform in extremely hostile environments, with an internal oxygen supply, air filters, thermal regulation, and extreme durability; a compromised FEA couldn't save anyone from the threats present on these battlefields. Dorete pitied soldiers from ancient times having to carry everything with human limitations. Praise be to the load bearing exoskeleton.

"All right ye misbegotten orphans, ye've been briefed enough, ye all know what the deal is, we deploy in 5," the cheerful voice of SSGT Reynolds called out, the immature Platoon Sergeant heading towards his own IFV. "See whoever's left at the DFAC, but yer still not invited to me wedding." Typical. "Squad A with me, Squad B with the butterbar, Squad C, keep your heads out of yer arses for two seconds, would ye?" With that, the pure Kinetic jumped into a waiting MX-422 Infantry Fighting Vehicle. The behemoth of a transport and assault vehicle would serve as the platoon's steeds for the foreseeable future. The things were massive, 16 feet tall with an 8 foot dual-barreled railgun turret, 11 feet wide and 30 feet long, the beast also had its own mounted missile rack and mini-missile launcher. The specifications said it hit top speeds of 80mph, but anybody driving something that heavy that fast would have to be a madman in this weather, or an Operator. Very cool vehicle.

The platoon broke the sorry excuse of a formation and split up into their respective vehicles, lugging armaments such as mini-missile launchers, spare railgun barrels, multiple cases of grenades, medical supplies, and more. CPL Jiang was leading Cunningham and Esteban-Castillo into their IFV, Lieutenant Ferrant slapping everyone on the shoulder as they passed. The butterbar was a powerful Stalker from Nebraska, close to the Kansas border along the 81. Her eyes narrowed. He was almost as young as Dorete, recently assigned after the previous Platoon Leader died. He was a teleporter as well, CQC specialist. Like most soldiers, she much preferred the experienced leadership of the sergeants than the bumbling young officers. Why they hadn't made it so only prior enlisted could be officers yet, she didn't know. She hoped he was competent or died quickly.

She received her shoulder pat with grace, stepping into the massive vehicle. She instantly felt where everyone and everything was located within it as she navigated her way to an empty seat by her Team. The rest of her squad filed in, filling the time with idle chatter and bickering. Some time later, a squad of C.S. Rangers entered the vehicle as well. She could feel their body language, clearly nervous being near Psi-Operatives. They'd get over it soon enough and start asking stupid questions. She had a great amount of respect for conventional Special Operations Forces, as they couldn't cheat like Psi-Operatives could when it came to physical requirements and other specifications. They were some of the bravest men she knew. Didn't stop them from getting uppity at times. She tuned out, reviewing memories.

Time passed.

The IFV began moving on schedule, with a silence that would surprise anyone without military experience. Their route was projected on their HUDs, from their staging ground along the Northeast of the city to the open terrain leading into it. The battle lines were drawn there, and their fates would be decided there. "Hey Booth!" Douglas called. "How many of us you reckons gonna die t'day?" "Two and a half, if we're lucky. If we're luckier, you'll be one of 'em, askin me a question like that." Booth was resting easily against his harness, and their conversation continued like that for a while. She couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Texans.

The storms were fierce now, so close to the mountains, thunder and green lightning laughing like dark gods would, she imagined. As if part of a duet, the boom of big guns sang for the enemy, their song of annihilation cold comfort for the queen of battle. The IFV was rocked side to side as it took them in closer to the front a couple miles out from the city, the rough terrain of El Norte doing them no favors. The Psi-Techs had all opted to go in their SAMAS, with a mix of CA-1 and CA-3 Infantry Exoskeletons among the rest of the Psi-Operatives; none had wanted to go lightly armored in this environment. Across from them, the squad of C.S. Rangers seemed even more uncomfortable. Several more APCs were carrying a company's worth of infantry grunts, mortars, RPAs, and more. They'd be lucky if even the majority of them survived.

The compartment stewed in silence, the discipline that had been absent from her fellows until now coming back in full force and then some, heartrates steadying, last minute checks performed. No one needed to be told what to do. They were the Coalition Elite, they knew where the enemy was, and they had a country to save. Their IFV pulled to a halt alongside a C.S. hardpoint, and the soldiers dismounted quickly. Immediately, they formed a perimeter, taking in the surroundings. The rest of the unit finished dismounting and began setting up their equipment. Her HUD showed the current radiation levels, easily within tolerable limits, as well as other atmospheric data. The brutal Northwind chilled everything here, somehow feeling colder than her native Kansas despite the FEA's temperature regulation. Already she noticed the body temperatures of her fellow soldiers cooling rapidly, though not dangerously. No light came through the clouds, so multi-optics had to suffice for the men. Not for her, though. She could feel her surroundings out to thousands of feet. More than anyone else, she had the best sense of where she was and where everything else lay, for the storm proved no hindrance. Time to move.

---

Time for a combat vote. This will cover your general disposition in combat. If there are any specific tactics y'all want to use, feel free to discuss them and I may incorporate them. Tactical votes may occur whenever something serious enough to warrant it comes up. Every option is there for a reason. I will neither confirm nor deny the existence of trap options.

Your overall objective is as before. Destabilize the Rift Network in Monterrey, neutralize enemy Sorcerers maintaining said network, rescue Coalition PoWs and sabotage Sabbat military infrastructure. The latter two objectives are secondary to the former two.

Relative position. This will determine where your preferred position on the battlefield is in relation to the main unit.
[][Position] Outrider. Far away from the main unit.
[][Position] Vanguard. Ahead of the main unit.
[][Position] Point. In front of the main unit.
[][Position] Bastion. Center of the main unit.
[][Position] Rearguard. Behind the main unit.

Demeanor and attitude. This will determine your intensity and commitment to battle.
[][Attitude] Relentless. Take risks and create opportunities on the battlefield.
[][Attitude] Aggressive. Accept risks, take opportunities as they come.
[][Attitude] Cautious. Avoid risks, may pass up opportunities and reduce initiative.

RoE compliance. The rules of engagement are simple. Hostile combatants are to be killed on sight, surrendering combatants are to be detained, and noncombatants are to be let go. Real life is more complicated.
[][Compliance] Merciful. Everyone is treated with care and compassion, even the enemy combatants.
[][Compliance] Strict. All noncombatants are treated as potentially dangerous and handled with caution.
[][Compliance] Pragmatic. All noncombatants are treated as potentially dangerous and handled with prejudice.
[][Compliance] Merciless. There are no noncombatants, not in this war. Anything not in a C.S. uniform is killed on sight, and even C.S. soldiers are treated cautiously.

Battlefield control. Attainment of combat advantages through environmental manipulation, mitigation of damage to friendly forces.
[][Battlefield] Low priority.
[][Battlefield] Medium priority.
[][Battlefield] High priority.

Information acquisition. Attainment of actionable information and relaying of said info to Squad Leader.
[][Information] Low priority.
[][Information] Medium priority.
[][Information] High priority.

Target elimination. Destruction of enemy forces and assets, especially supernatural creatures and enemy hardpoints.
[][Elimination] Low priority.
[][Elimination] Medium priority.
[][Elimination] High priority.

AN2: I'll be giving a lot of time for people to remember what this Quest even is, no moratorium. I do feel the tone and tenor has shifted from when I previously wrote, but I'm not me from half a year ago, and not a professional writer by any definition. Character Sheet updated. Will add Informational posts about the Platoon and CoC, demon and monster lore, vampire lore, and other subjects over time, if you live that long. I feel a strange anxiety, posting here again after so long. Hope y'all enjoy it.[/Information][/Information][/Information]