Of Bullets and Testosterone (Jazen/Greed)

[Sporky]

A small freighter tore through Shogun's atmosphere, constant AA fire making flying the thing like trying to tiptoe across a bed of spikes. She'd been reworked for this job, of course; All power to the weapons and non-essential systems had been rerouted to the shield generators and engines. She wasn't going to be providing any sort of fire support. Her job was to fly in how and low, drop off a contingent of Mandalorians, and run off with her tail between her legs.

One of these Mandalorians was Zordon, Spec. Ops Corporal and half-Boltrunian. He stood in the rear cargo bay, helmet on the floor beside him and minigun held in one hand. The other hand held a still-burning cigar, which he constantly took long drags from. His craggy browridges were knotted in scorn as he contemplated the task before him and his fellows.

A cry had gone across the galaxy. No longer would the Mando'ad be held down by the Republic. No longer would they suffer because of traitorous treaties. They would be a bright star of fury, visible from every planet in space. The time had come. They would had their retribution.

Him and his squad were but drops in a river. He knew this. But that did not mean for a second that they could slack off or give up and go home. No. They had to be the clearest drop, the sweetest. If they gave it any less than their all, they weren't fit to wear their armor.

The intercom buzzed, tearing him from his contemplation. "She can't take much more! We've got to turn back!" yelled the pilot. Zordon wheeled around, rage in his face and fury on his tongue. "We keep going, or I'll be eating your innards for my meals!" he seethed,spinning up his weapon for added effect. This was more than enough to scare the pilot, who meekly nodded and cranked the throttle up as far as it would go. The tiny freighter groaned in protest as her shield were pounded, but she would hold. She had to hold.

And hold she did. She swooped down at the maximum safe distance from their objective, a plant producing battle droids.A Sark Industries plant. Zordon knew this name well. So many weapons and vehicles and pieces of armor on the Republic's front lines were Sark. He hated Sark Industries, and whoever ran the company. But that wasn't important right now. What was important was the mission.

No speech was given. No speech was necessary. They were Mando'ad, they needed no such thing. No words were spoken save for the howling battle cry as they charged onto the killing fields.

[Jazen]

In the adjusted confines of his fighter, Thel snarled as his craft bounced back on forth. Flying into a planet's atmosphere was always a little bumpy, it came with using a small one man fighter instead of a larger ship designed for it. But when the air around the fighter was filled with explosions and bolts of anti air fire, it made the simple bumpy ride into a road filled with potholes and steeps. And each shook his small fighter like it was a toy.

This didn't bother Thel though, at least not as much as it could have. He'd flown into the hornet's nest before, under greater fire then this. And those times he didn't have a ship in front of him taking most of the hits. Indeed, the small freighter he had been assigned to follow and escort in with the rest of his flight was taking most of the pounding while his wingmates and him simply tailed in the ship's wake. They would do no good for the craft getting picked off my AA fire too far away for them to get to, at least without leaving their charge open to fighter response when they cleared the higher atmosphere.

So Thel and his four wing brothers followed the Wicked Snarl in, shifting course whenever the ship did to avoid streaking bolts of laser light. Soon enough, the ship punched through the worse of the enemies cannon fire and Thel and his wings broke from its rear, strafing the nearby weapon emplacements and buildings. The planet was alive with fire and death and fighting around them, lasers every which way, unable to tell what was friendly and what was foe.

In this chaos, Thel felt truly at home. He weaved through the fire, raked a large cannon to pieces with the ships lasers, then dumped a missile into an approaching column of troops. One of the must have got a lucky shot off, for a rocket flew from the column. Thel twisted to evade it, but the rocket clipped his wing, blowing off most of his ship's ability to retain flight. Roaring in anger not at the enemy but at himself, Thel twisted the craft as best he could towards where the troops were landing. He spotted Wicked Snarl just as she was heading off from dumping her load, a battered wreck as she headed for what was suppose to be a safe zone for her to wait in.

As Thel managed an shaky landing into the dirt nearby, he saw the ship burst into a violent explosion of red, orange and yellow, lighting the landscape around it in a fiery glow. Cursing in his own tongue, Thel grabbed his kit from behind his seat and kicked out his canopy, which didn't want to open. With a monstrous leap, he shot from the ship, landing into a roll. When he came up, his rifle was drawn and he looked around just in case an enemy force had penetrated their landing zone. But his eyes and his nose told him otherwise and with a grunt, he locked his helmet in place, sealing his suit.

Many Mando's were intimidating, but Thel was one of the best at that, standing at 7'5 feet tall. And none of that size was wasted, for Thel's body was a mass of muscle and tough skin, a beast in bipedal form. He was not the one to pick a fight with. And he was even more frightening when he wasn't wearing a suit that hid that about it. Or his teeth filled face. He stomped over to where the others were gathering and his muffled voice echoed from within his suit., looking for the one in charge.

"It appears I'll be joining the ground attack, seeing as my ship no longer is able to attain flight. What is our destination and objective?!"

[Sporky]

Zordon was focused. He was in the zone. A team of wild Reek couldn't pull him away from this objective. This was easier than he had expected. These droids seemed to be special needs...Fah, no matter.

Suddenly, an explosion went off close to him, spraying him with dirt and making him stumble away and fall down. Muttering curses, he picked himself and his weapon up, holding the massive gun in one hand as he grabbed the pair of binocs from his belt.

Ah, there it was...top of the factory. An rpg turret..quite basic, really. Reminded him of their own rpg walkers..bah, didn't matter. "Spread out! I want RPG fire on that roof! Someone call in a fire mission for the MLBs! Keep moving!"

Then the Levianeili came running up to him. He gave only a tiny nod before waving him forward. "That droid plant up ahead! We're leveling it Grab some charges from a corpse and get going, we ain't got all day!"

[Jazen]

Chaos reigned around him and for Thel, he couldn't be happier. This is where he felt the most alive, in the midst of his chaos and carnage. Death was all around him, fires burning everything they touched, the scents of a world at war smelt clean through his suit's air filters. It was sweeter than any drink could ever be and more intoxicating then any drug. Not that Thel could know the latter but the point still stood for him.

All the while he was thinking these thoughts, Thel was moving like a soldier at war. He covered himself from possible sniper fire, watched his motion tracker, kept his nose keen for scents that weren't associated with the natural smells all around him. That's where the suit's filter came in handy; it dulled the intensity of the chaos around him, allowing him to at least catch the oddities.

A massive blast shock the ground in front of him and he covered himself with his harm as rocks, debris and flesh spat at him, deflecting off his armor with thuds and sickening squishes. He wiped spatter from one of the men who hadn't moved in time off his visor and looked for the man that was currently in charge, who had dove away as well to avoid the blast.

The man spotted him, made an indication with his hand and yelled out what he wanted Thel to do. Thel's eyes followed where he was pointing and sure enough, there was a soldier, half gone from the explosion, laying in a puddle of his own gore. Thel ran to him, diving to cover the rest of the way, skidding to a halt inches from the growing pool of blood. Nothing remained of the man's upper half but the lower half, where he had held the charges, was fine. Thel ripped the belt from the man and slung it over his shoulder, clipping it around his chest.

With a grunt, he started after the moving squad of commandos at a run. Two droids burst from the trees in front of him, blasters already firing in his direction, the fire shining against their rusted frames. The bolts bounced off his armor like a rock bounces off the ground and in an instant, Thel was on them. The first lost its head to his arm as he brought it up to clothesline the droid. The second received a heavy kick from him, which sent it sprawling back into the underbrush. And he didn't even break his stride. He grunted his disappointment in such foes before turning his focus back on reaching the ever moving commandos.

[Sporky]

"I have a fire mission! Repeat, I have a fire mission! Targets are reinforced rocket turrets on droid factory roof!"

Some distance away, a battery of MLB fire support droids lined up their sights, sending three volleys of RPG fire at the turrets on the factory roof. RPG fire from field soldiers joined the volleys and sure enough, the turret menace was finished. "Alright, move up, move up! Let's get this done before I die of old age!!"

As ordered, the squad moved up, crushing resistance with moderate ease. There was still the nagging feeling that this was too easy....bah, what did it mattered. Meant more ammo if anything big did come.

Eventually they made it inside the factory, and Zordon gathered his men around when they had secured...whatever it was. The lobby or something. "Alright men, you know the objective. We're levelling this place. BUT if anyone here knows anything at all about computers, see if you can scrounge up any blueprints or something. Every little bit helps the war effort. Now get going!"

[Jazen]

Thel had been in the process of teaching another droid how to fly when the roof of the nearby building burst into flames, the echoing sounds of multiple explosions rippling through the air. Flaring his nostrils to the hoo'ras over the comm, Thel bent the droid backwards over his knee, its inner circuits spilling forth much like the internals of an organic; colorful and twisted. With a snarl, Thel spun and tossed the twitching tin can into the brush, where it made a satisfying clunk as it found one of its fellows.

The roar to move on echoed inside his helmet, unhindered by the chaos that erupted over much of the surrounding landscape. With a roar of his own, Thel thundered after them, blaster rifle blazing at any droid unlucky enough to cross his path. And when a droid came close enough for him to reach, Thel didn't even bother to waste ammo; he tore them apart, sent them flying with powerful kicks and punches and in one unique instance, slammed the droid into the ground with thunderous force via an arm toss. This was his element and he'd be damned if some makeshift piece of metal with the brain power of a tree was going to best him in it.

In almost no time flat, Thel and the rest of the commando squad, including the strangely armored one that appeared to be leading the charge, had made it to their intended target, a droid factory up on the hill. There was some resistance in the building's main lobby but if one mandolarion was a force to be reckoned with, a whole squad of them was a nightmare. And all they had to contend with was mindless droids who only knew how to point and shoot.As their commander dished out the order to level the place, Thel sent the final droid that was still twitching to oblivion with a heavy boot to its spinal, cutting off the flow of data between processor and body. Kicking the droid over as its eyes faded, Thel tossed the bag of explosives he had carried her to one of the others. Let them deal with setting up the bombs. He wanted a real challenge this day.

Pushing a fresh power cell into his rifle, Thel shouldered his way back to the main part of the lobby before following the demo team, becoming their escort and guard. They hardly needed it, considering the worthlessness of the enemy and the lack of resistance they had given them, but something about that tickled at Thel's brain. Easy was never good; it either meant that something much worse was in the wings or that the true strength of the enemy was being held back for elsewhere. Thel prayed it was the former; he wanted this day to at least have something that actually put his skills to the test and the promise of an honorable death. At least then maybe he'd get to unleash his pent up fury.