Naw, mature, permanently grumpy. They got plenty of cheer in the rest
=\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
- Original
- Location
- America
Sorry. Thought it was a bit different in the context of the whole anime waifu stuff. Won't happen again.
obssesednuker
Commander of 10 Million Men
- Location
- In the Kremlin, activating Perimtr.
Hey, she can still be awwdorably precocious in her attempts to be mature and permanently grumpy.
KlinkerKing
Man bites dog?
- Location
- The Lion's Den
This quest is a riot.
Which waifu will most likely to go "haha tanks!"? If they see an enemy tank with the keys in the ignition?
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
I'm thinking Riley's squad, but I could be mistaken. Either way, I doubt cross-polination of waifus will work so well. We're more sneeki-breeki than GLORIOUS UNDITCHING LOG PREVAILS!
wkz
Probably on the other side of the world from you
IMO, there's only one candidate:
The smallest unnamed yet-to-be loli archtype that's not yet in the quest, that's who. Smallest
"Oh look! *giggle* Insurgents! FIRE IN THE HOLE!!"
*kaboom*
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Supposedly, with the tanks designed and built by the Soviets during the Cold War, crew members more than five foot six inches tall had real trouble fitting into their assigned stations. I have no idea if it's true or just an urban legend.
Dirtnap
Kanmusu Affecionado
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obssesednuker
Commander of 10 Million Men
- Location
- In the Kremlin, activating Perimtr.
It's very much true. The Soviets deliberately sorted their personnel by size since smaller crewmen obviously needed to run smaller tanks, but having smaller tanks meant they could build lighter tanks without having to actually sacrifice in armor thickness or guns caliber. Things started getting a bit complicated when they started mechanizing the infantry with APCs and IFVs though...
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Story Post 17: Boom, Headshot
- Location
- 'Murica
=\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=
PART 17: Boom, headshot!
PART 17: Boom, headshot!
You think for a moment, and glance over at Annabelle.
Your machine gunner's floating lazily on her back about a foot from you, with her gun resting on her tummy and a chest much larger and fuller than yours bulging from the surface with a gentle curve of contoured armor plate (But that last point, you admit, is neither here nor there).
You trust her with your life, and you have to admit she makes running the belt-fed look easy. But it's hard to keep linked ammo silent, especially with the kind of athletic contortions needed to climb up out of the water with one hand on a pistol. You wanted to stay stealthy and low-profile, and Annabelle's…
Annabelle would be better used as a contingency. You knew she had a full belt of high-explosive incendiary locked and loaded, and you'd seen first hand how awesome a long burst of that stuff could be. It this went poorly, you wanted her somewhere with nice clean firing arcs and plenty of cover.
And water was basically bullet proof.
"Stop a fifty yards out," you said, giving her a brief pat on her shoulder. "Cover us."
"Mmm," Annabelle flashed a smile and gave the belt-fed cradled between her bare thighs a loving pat. "Gotcha, Shebly."
"Abigail," you put a finger to your ear and waited for the sniper's response.
"Sup?" she sounded like she was chewing gum.
"Moving on the man by the boat," you said. "When I signal, take the shot."
"No prob."
You took a moment to rally your team—Sarah and Annabelle were rolling around like a pair of otters double-checking their gear for the last time, while Sophia checked her grenades for the nth time this evening. You took a second to pat yourself down too. Everything was still where you left it, but after a hard jump and a long swim, it didn't hurt to make sure.
Content that everything was where it needed to be, you swam off towards the boat dock. When you were a few hundred feet out, you took your last breath and let your tank slip off your shoulders and sink into the freezing depth. You'd do the rest on lung capacity.
Slow, measured kicks sent you slicing though the freezing water like a sleek bullet. The water was cold, but you barely felt it against your bare skin, the subtle drag of the suppressed pistol on your thigh and the cinch of nylon against your swimsuit sat far more prominently in your psyche. You've trained for this all your life, but now you were actually going to do it for real.
You only hope you don't let your commander down.
Above you, a scimitar soldier lazily smoked a cigarette and hugged himself in his parka. It was a cold day out, and the mountain wind couldn't be making things any more comfortable.
You slipped your fins off your low-rise boots and wedged them against a wooden piling. Your lungs strained at your chest but you fought back the urge to take a breath. You know you can do this, you used to have competitions with the other girls over who could stay underwater the longest. Riley and Annabelle always beat you, but you could always reach at least twenty minutes.
You glanced up, and wedged your feet against the piling, ready to break his fall. You bit down, flexing your throat and triggering the microphone strapped around your neck.
Somewhere not too far away, the crack of a suppressed 338 was lost in the in the thin mountain air. The subsonic round lacked the velocity of the usual full-power stuff, which would matter if it was ball ammo.
But it wasn't. As usual, Emma was shooting HEIAP rounds. The tungsten perpetrator tore though the soldier's armor like it was nothing, and burning phosphorous eviscerated what was left of his organs after the expanding copper was done.
He was dead before he even started falling. He didn't even make a sound as you broke his fall a scant few inches above the water. With feminine grace, you slowly lowered him below the surface with barely a ripple, and let his cooling corpse sink to the bottom.
He was Scimitar alright. The black saber on his plate carrier was as much their logo as the subtly glowing veins around his gaunt, souless eyes.
"Smooth," came Abigail's review.
You smiled, and carefully pulled yourself out of the water. With nothing on but your skintight swimsuit and armor, water sloughed off your streamlined figure with barely a ripple. Your rifle was clamped securely against your back, and your suppressed pistol felt solid in your hand.
Sophia's the next one up. She's slender and lithe and a tiny little thing, and she's up almost before you noticed she was there. Her feet tread quieter than a cat's paws as she forms up on you, her pistol drawn at the ready.
Sarah's the next one up, but the belted ammo pouches resting over her hips and a bustline noticeably more filled out than yours makes her motions a little less graceful than yours. But she got the job done, and you imagine some people find that more important than grace and poise.
Unlike the two of you, she's got her rifle at the ready, though a suppressor's firmly screwed on the muzzle.
"Annabelle" you say with a wisper so quiet even Sophia wouldn't be able to hear it if not for the microphone mounted to your choker.
"Sup?"
"Come to me."
"moving."
While you wait for your gunner to make the swim, you lean around the edge of the boathouse for a quick look.
There's two guys patrolling the lake-facing side of the house, with another on a second-floor balcony manning a belt-fed. But the gunner seems more interested in watching the approach road than the boat house, and it's only about thirty feet to the side door.
You might be able to make it inside without anyone knowing if you're quick enough, but you don't know what you'd find. You can only see brief snatches of movement inside.
Plan:
>Try and sneak past the belt-fed gunner and enter the side of the house.
>Try and take out the two guards and enter the back of the house.
>something else.
Noise:
>Full sneaky: suppressed pistols only. Be the shadows, let no one know you were ever here.
>Semi-sneaky: suppressed rifles. Nobody will notice if there's nobody to notice, right?
>No sneaky. You have the element of surprise, you could go loud and storm the house right now.
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
[X] Plan: You know what would be AWESOME? A wire-pull flashbang in the bushes thirty meters waythefuck over there, with some claymores to teach their reaction force that Mister Claymore is Not Your Friend and that Thar Be a Sniper in Dem Hills.
[X] Full speed: They're going to be too busy chasing after the distraction for the reaction force to see us, but we need to move fast to grab the computers. Sneak until spotted, then let 'em have it.
EDIT: If we don't have a flashbang, use a incindiary. If we don't have claymores, then our grenadier doesn't get to do anything fun until she memorizes every Soviet landmine produced from '55 to '88
[X] Full speed: They're going to be too busy chasing after the distraction for the reaction force to see us, but we need to move fast to grab the computers. Sneak until spotted, then let 'em have it.
EDIT: If we don't have a flashbang, use a incindiary. If we don't have claymores, then our grenadier doesn't get to do anything fun until she memorizes every Soviet landmine produced from '55 to '88
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NothingNow
Corpse Wrangler
- Location
- Tampa
[x] Plan 7734
Dirtnap
Kanmusu Affecionado
I don't think we have any of those things.
[x] Take out the two guards, using the sniper team. If they have to reposition, that's fine. You've got time.
[x] Semi-sneaky. Malfean Stealth is best Stealth.
Lady Darkhound
Haha, tanks!
- Location
- My very own personal hell
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Strypgia
EDIT: Changed vote
EDIT: Changed vote
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7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
I can hope, and I'm 95% sure we have incendiaries because both our grenadiers like them. That said, if we don't have claymores or 8-gauge wire, we need to have a loooooong talk with the girls about being prepared.
- Location
- 'Murica
You picked the stealth team. Riley's team has a lot more firepower and goodies, Shelby's team is high speed low-drag.
- Location
- Arizona
[x] Plan 7734
- Location
- Actually pretty lost
[X] Plan Dirtnap
- Location
- United States, EST
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Plan Dirtnap
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
So we have party favors and pistols. Motherfucker. This is why I choose War Hetzer team, but noooooo...
Ok, we have duct tape, right? We can make duct tape string, use a frag in the bush, and the sniper can still do her thing. We're still ok. This is all ok.
Goddamnit if we don't have duct tape their next shopping trip is to Harbour Freight...