alertcommando | Operation: Fallout

"And here we are." Tanya reaches for the winter camouflage uniforms. "Suit up, it's freezing outside."

Uniforms ands weapons, Tanya did not forget a nice high-powered modern sniper rifle for Annabelle. They also have grenades. "[The Commander] is setting up defensive lines as fast as he can; we have special agents in the area coordinating militia, resistance and any volunteers we could gather. Every soldier we kill, every bit of supply and materiel we stop, buys the main defense time."

Tanya always brings the nicest presents.

Annabelle suits up quickly, as it is bloody freezing out. The camouflage looks good on her, although the enemy is likely to disagree.

"I can do that," she says with a sharp grin. "They still using the same uniforms as the last time I danced with them?"

"The rank-and-file are. We need to watch out for paratroopers." Tanya steps into the jumpsuit, zipping up, and takes the gloves and protective goggles. "We have to watch out for paratroopers in camouflage, and combat choppers making troop insertions, Vladimir wants to use those to flank the defense choke points." Oh fun, the battle is already underway.

"Choppers, eh?" she says with a chuckle. "I bet this little darling here," she pats the sniper rifle, "could take one of those down in one go if I hit the right spot"

Her smile isn't terribly pleasant. "The rotors stop moving, and things get ugly for a chopper pretty damn quick."

"That's why I brought you armor-piercing ammo... soviet attack choppers are armored like... well, almost like a tank." A last check of her weapons. "Ready?"

"You're always so thoughtful," Annabelle teases. "Ready as I'll ever be," she says, serious now.

"Just the best to my best friend." Tanya gives a wry smile, then moves to the door. "We are going north-east, to meet up with a SEAL team and some militia."

And of course, eliminating any soviet insertion troops they find on the way. "There are some patrols and outposts of ours watching the roads."

Annabelle nods in understanding and follows her friend, gun at the ready. "That should make things a bit easier on us, even if we don't follow the road."

"Actually..." Tanya smirks a bit, drawing one of her pistols. "We are the ones supposed to make things a bit easier on them."

After all, being ambushed by a paratrooper squad would really ruin someone's day.

"No reason it can't work both ways," Annabelle replies with a chuckle. "How about we go and say hello to some paratroopers?"

She nods, and leads the way.

There will be no lack of action in the snowy woods: soviet paratroopers in squadrons, advancing southwest on foot. Soon, the area is full of the deadly music of gunfire from repeated skirmishes.

Tanya fights with deadly precision, covering Annabelle and trusting her friend to cover her, mowing down enemies with uncanny precisions. She uses a piston in each hand, but fires only one at a time, using the dual wielding as a way to extend her fire endurance. "Yeah Baby! Ka-ching!" The Reds will learn quickly to not try using grenades, after a couple times being blown up when a well-aimed bullet brings down the grenadier.

Or they would, if there were any survivors of the groups they meet.

Deadly music indeed. Music written in blood spatter, shredded pine and hot lead on the snowy parchment of the ground.

The barking, single note staccato of Annabelle's sniper rifle and the quick quarter notes of Tanya's pistols cut off the tumbling broken chord of the paratroopers' fire.

The grenadiers' deaths are bright, explosive crescendos that end as quickly as they began.

One by one, their parts come to a violent end, leaving only silence.

As the symphony of death comes to a lull, Tanya pauses the advance to quickly reload.

Far in the distance, the sound of automatic fire is dying down as well, after a clear dominance of the smooth drumming of allied guns. "It sounds like we held the first wave."

Then the concert starts anew, further ahead. "And sounds like the second wave is coming; come on, the meeting point is just ahead, on that hill." A half mile ahead, and there is a building on top of it.

Annabelle reloads as well during the lull.

"Some people don't know when to quit while they're ahead," she says with a snort at the sound of new gunfire. "Let's go meet our friends, then."

"Vladimir is on thin ice: he will not give up easily." Tanya loads the fresh clips in her guns and starts to the hill. "After being beaten back, I am sure Romanov and Yuri will want his head if he loses again."

Tanya is absolutely not smirking as she says that.

Nope.

Annabelle is not smirking too, for the record.

"Tragic," she drawls. "He's going to learn the hard way to be more particular about who he works for."

"With just a bit of luck, in a week or so he will be dangling by his neck at the end of a rope in front of the Kremlin." And right now, that is a very comforting thought.

Approaching the hill, Tanya gives a few beeps on her radio, an IFF code obviously, and they are allowed to climb unopposed. At the top they meet with a SEAL squad and some militia: they have a couple machineguns and mortars and are busy digging and moving things to set up positions.

To east and northwest of their position the main battle is raging, marked by the distant sound of gunfire and cannon, while high above planes clash.

"A thought to warm the cockles of your heart," Annabelle replies with a grin.

Once they've climbed the hill and met their allies, she keeps glancing toward the main battle, eager to get going.

Oh, they will have work enough right there: soviet planes are approaching with their cargo of paratroopers. Tanya is observing with binoculars. "Ukrainian Antonovs. Five of them which means some two hundred paratroopers."

The SEAL officer beside her shakes head. "We probably can hold them off for a while, but they have the numbers to encircle us."

"Or to walk past." Tanya shakes head. "Annabelle can snipe them from here and slow them down. Some mortar fire will help too."

Why yes, Tanya plans to draw the Reds for a 10-to-1 battle, why?

The officer gives a nod. "We have to hold for three to five hours, until reinforcements can arrive."

Because she can?

Annabelle has borrowed another pair of binoculars from one of the SEALs. She's examining the approaching planes for potential weak points. Why shoot individual paratroopers when you can take out the plane, after all?

She nods in response to Tanya's statement. "Might even be able to shoot the planes down, if they're low enough."

"If they are dumb enough to get close..." Tanya smirks. "They might come low enough for you to snipe a pilot."

Oh yes, armor-piercings rounds versus plane windshields. "It will not make them crash outright, but a forced landing should soften them up."

"A girl can hope," she teases.

She grins at the SEAL commander. "We'll soften them up for you, even if we end up having to dance with one of them at a time."

The man smirks and nods. "We will try to not get in your way, ma'am." After all, everybody knows Tanya's fame and of those she associates with.

Still far out, the planes make a slight turn to the right (left of the defenders), and the SEAL grunts. "They will swing back left and drop the paratroopers already in lines. There is a gap on the woods over there, with an old road, a good place for a low-altitude drop."

Incidentally, the swing-left will turn the lead plane's nose to a nice sniping angle for Annabelle...

Annabelle nods. They're professionals, she's sure they won't be any trouble.

She follows the plane with her eyes, waiting for the plane to make that left turn. One heartbeat, two...there.

Annabelle's rifle makes a muffled crack as she fires at the plane. The armor piercing bullet laughs at the weak windshield glass and the comparatively soft skull of the pilot. He never even knows what hits him, although everyone else in that plane is likely to notice his head exploding and the plane suddenly being without a pilot.

Annabelle reloads and sights again. If she needs to, she'll take out anyone brave enough to spring to the controls, otherwise....well, there are lots of planes.

Cue nineteen mouths hanging open, and one commando smirking as Annabelle sends the first, then the second plane tumbling down to a crash. Not a fiery one, but a hard crash indeed.

The shock is not any lesser among the Reds, one of the planes actually banking hard and away, and the other two delaying the paratroop drop. With a few well-placed bullets, the blonde woman cut down the enemy's forces by one-third, and maybe even by half.

It depends on how many of the soldiers in the downed planes are still in fighting shape...

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