Moray Strike

Log Title: Moray Strike

Characters: Crush Depth, Major Bludd, Over Kill, Tele-Viper 742

Location: Port of Tampa, USA

Date: December 11, 2009

TP:

Docks - Cobra Island
Nestled along an inlet is a set of docks and loading platforms. The place is usually very busy: cargo ships and military watercraft alike move about, loading and unloading, patrolling and performing maneuvers. On shore stand a group of grey warehouses.

A paved road runs to the southeast, passing a clearing on which sits an old freighter as it winds its way south.

Crush Depth sits in the Moray's cabin, checking over the systems. You know those coastal assaults the Baroness wanted? Well, he's planning one as you... okay, nobody's speaking, but if they WERE, then he'd be planning one at that moment as well.

Major Bludd climbs aboard the Moray. He's not big on boats, but things have been quiet and dangerous lately, and any action is a welcome thing at this point. "How's it look, Vaughn?" he calls, spying the Hydro-Viper's broad back at the controls.

Crush Depth's thick accent comes through the mask, "All systems are nominal, Major. Ve are ready to launch at your command." He straps himself into the pilot's seat, turning the starter over.

"Good," Bludd replies, sliding into the seat beside Vaughn. "You can brief me enroute."

Crush Depth pulls the Moray away from the docks and out into the open water. The lenses on his helmet reflect the ocean as it passes by, "A shipment of various textiles is comink into a Florida port. A shipment from a country zat refuses to ally mit Cobra. Orders are to sink ze shipment. Simple und easy. Vat could go wrong, ja?" Although his mask hides it, the grin carries in his tone.

Pennington is at one of the consoles, monitoring radio traffic. "You asked the one thing you're not supposed to ask," she chides Vaughn.

Major Bludd buckles himself in as the hydrofoil begins to move. "Sounds simple enough," he agrees.

Crush Depth chuckles... a truly disturbing sound in his working gear. "Ze shipment should be approaching ze Port of Tampa as ve arrive."

Over Kill nods from his position in the cargo hold of hte hydrofoil. "Tampa it is. This should be easy enough."

"Coast Guard's radioing," Pennington reports.

"We expecting any Coast Guard --" Bludd stops mid-query and gives the Tele-Viper a smirk. "I withdraw the question," he adds, smiling.

Crush Depth nods slowly, "Vould be best to partially jam communications, I sink. Zey may be suspicious of a complete blackout." He adjusts the Hydrofoil's course, heading further out from the coast.

Gulf of Mexico/Caribbean Sea - North America
Bordered on the north by the United States, on the east by Cuba, and on the south and west by Mexico, this warm, salty arm of the Atlantic ocean is a favorite spot for many tourists. However, in recent years the presence of Cobra's island nation has left a cloud of foreboding influence hovering over the gulf, dampening the tropical demeanor.

There are +views here, including enterable Cobra Island!

Pennington nods, and begins quietly working as they approach the port. "Might want to turn your radios down a couple notches," she warns. After waiting a moment, she does -- well, *something*, to the local maritime channel, and a strange sound which includes a rumbling bass component coupled with an irritating whine can be heard. It makes transmissions very difficult to hear.

Crush Depth reaches up and adjusts a dial behind one of the helmet fins, doing as Pennington suggests.

Over Kill tilts his head. "Trnasmissions on minimum." he comments.

Major Bludd follows Pennington's advice, adjusting his radio volume. He frowns at the unusual sound coming over the open channel. "What the hell is that?" he asks, squinting and further fiddling with the radio controls connected to his earpiece. "Goes right through my 'ead."

"Sorry! That's a distraction. Not a full jam. Just something annoying to keep communications between CG and the main shore to a minimum for a little while," Pennington says.

Crush Depth spots a metallic glint on the horizon. The cargo freighter. He aims the bow of the Moray straight at it, "Now ze Baroness vas not specific on certain details, for vhich I need your decision, Major. Vill ve be takink hostages, or leaving no survivors?"

"Reminds me of listening to shortwave," Bludd comments, "only worse." He turns to look at Vaughn with his good eye. "The Baroness' orders were to avoid loss of life for now," he replies, frowning.

Pennington continues producing the annoying/distracting tone. "We have about 3-5 more minutes of this, before it fades out," she informs Vaughn and Bludd.

Crush Depth nods slowly, "So a little more care mit ze missiles zen usual..." Is that disappointment in his voice? "Firing range in two minutes." He flicks a switch, revealing the missile rack in front of the pilot house.

Major Bludd nods to Vaughn. "Bit pickier," he says off-handedly, "but I'm sure you're up to the task."

Pennington smiles slightly...on her own headset, she can dampen the interference to the point where she can hear the alarmed Coast Guard officers trying to radio one another, to no avail.

Crush Depth eases back on the throttle as the targeting computer engages. "Focusing on ze shipping containers, zen..." He starts to move the boat around to approach from the ship's stern, "But perhaps best to disable ze propulsion first..." One of the torpedos drops free of its pylon and accelerates forward.

Major Bludd studies the deck of the cargo ship, watching the crewmembers' reactions to the attack. He picks up his rifle and lays it across his lap, sliding the bolt back without looking.

This is all pretty exciting to Pennington...she still enjoys the rush of a surprise attack. For the time being, she maintains the channel distraction for as long as possible.

Crush Depth watches the spray of water, oil, and metal shrapnel as part of the ship's drive systems are taken out by the torpedo. "Should still allow her to limp back one one ve've finished..." He brings the Moray around the freighter's broadside, targetting the main deck. "The distraction is about to fade -- do you want a full frequency jam?" Pennington asks, as the Moray moves to retarget the freighter's deck.

Major Bludd sees a couple of brave and/or stupid crewmen aboard the ship take out handguns and aim them at the Moray as it circles around. "Ears," he calls to his companions by way of warning, then snaps off a few shots, his intent to startle rather than kill. The rifle barks loudly in the hydrofoil's small cabin.

Crush Depth grins behind his mask as he lets one of the surface missiles off the turret, "Let ze Coast Guard here. May make sings interesting." He glances over his shoulder, "Und if you vant to give zem a scare, Major, consider ze 55 milimeter cannons."

The fortunate thing for Tele-Vipers is that they have supreme audial protection, so even close gunfire is dampened to a bearable level. Pennington remains focused on her console, and is really rather cool under fire -- perhaps her long training has done her some good. "Signal's abating." Eventually, the radio voices can be heard once more -- frantically clamoring for everything from Coast Guard backup to strafing from a helicopter.

Major Bludd grins, both at Vaughn's suggestion and the sounds of the panicked transmissions he can hear over his radio. "I don't wanna scare 'em /too/ much," he says, returning the rifle to his lap and flicking the safety on. "Besides, 's a bit of practise, firing from a moving vehicle, innit?" He regards the water around the cargo ship, now littered with the remnants of its cargo. "Makin' a nice mess, aren't we, Vaughn?"

Crush Depth chuckles as he lets out a burst of machinegun fire, raking it across the hull. "Not as covert as I'm used to, but still a lot of fun." The rounds don't penetrate the hull, but do enough to make the crew duck for cover.

"I think it's called a 'hot mess'," Pennington comments, fighting back a grin.

Major Bludd glances thoughtfully in Pennington's direction, seeming to consider her comment. "Yeah, but if we set it on fire, it'll probably explode," he quips, "an' then we'll have t'explain it to the Baroness. I'd let you have that honour, Pennington." He chuckles, turning back to keep his eyes on the cargo ship.

Crush Depth lets another missile fly off the rack, pulling away and watching it explode in a rearview mirror. "I do not see any remaink containers on ze deck. Can you confirm?"

Major Bludd takes a pair of folding binoculars from a belt pouch and studies the cargo ship. "Looks clear to me, Vaughn," he says after a moment.

Pennington smiles to herself, then returns to monitoring the airwaves. She pauses for a moment to nod slowly at Vaughn's impressive shot, then something on the radio catches her attention. "They've got a copter en route," she informs.

Crush Depth nods slowly, "Good zat ve have finished, zen." The surface-skimmers sink back into their compartment.

"Have an ETA on that copter?" Bludd asks.

Negative, but the pilot just took off, so it's probably a matter of minutes," Pennington estimates.

Crush Depth looks over his shoulder, "Might consider manning ze 30-cals in ze back if zey pursue us." He maintains a heading back toward Cobra Island, the hydrofoil's hull actually lifting out of the water as it picks up speed.

Major Bludd nods to Vaughn, stowing his binoculars. "I'll head back," he says, unstrapping himself from the seat. He gets to his feet and moves cautiously and somewhat unsteadily toward the rear of the vessel.

Pennington blinks. Is she actually going to get the opportunity to SHOOT something? "I think that's entirely possible," she admits to Vaughn. Just as she's about to go back there -- Bludd heads back there. (Well, damn,) she thinks to herself in disappointment. (But hey, someone's got to man the comm.)

Crush Depth chuckles as he watches over his shoulder, "Zere is plenty of firepower to go around, fraulein." He gestures to the hatch in the roof, which opens to a pair of 23mm repeating cannons.

Pennington grins cheerfully at the sight of the cannons. "Oh wow...I guess we can all get in on this shooting business, then!" She hops up into the hatch, scrambling to take control of the cannon turret.

Major Bludd is not a naval officer, and though he spent his formative years within a few miles of the ocean, he does not have sea legs. This becomes evident as the hydrofoil takes a particularly high bounce off the water's surface. Unprepared for the sudden shift, Bludd's feet slide out from under him and he crashes to the deck. A few choice French words are forced out of him by the impact and he half-sits, half-sprawls there for a moment seeking his balance.

Crush Depth adjusts the course, "Coming around to give you a better shot..." The back of the Moray kicks up a wave as he brings it around, heading straight at the helicopter.

By now, the helicopter is gaining, and the telltale pops of machine-gun fire can be heard louder with each passing moment. Pennington is secure in the turret from most of the heavy motion of the Moray, mostly because she's got no walls to bounce off of...in addition, she's unable to get distracted by anything below, as she can't really see what's going on without completely climbing out. She aims toward the copter, and begins firing a steady volley of shots.

Major Bludd mutters, "That's gonna make an interesting bruise." He waits for the Moray to stop turning, then clambers to his feet. Hearing the approaching copter and the accompanying gunfire, he hurries to the rear guns, wincing as he slides into the gunner's seat. "Yeah," he grinds out, "interesting." He listens and waits for the hydrofoil to pass under the copter, ready to open fire.

The copter attempts to evade Pennington's cannon barrage, and mostly succeeds -- though unfortunately for them, this puts them on a direct course to be in sites for Bludd's target trajectory.

Bludd opens up with the 30-cals as soon as he has a line of sight.

Crush Depth does indeed take the the boat beneath the helicopter. Directly beneath it. The Coast Guard gets a good bead on the Moray, strafing it with small arms fire. The armor of the beast absorbs the attack with little more than cosmetic damage, and the helicopter is overhead, moving into Bludd's sights.

X-Marks the Spot!

The helicopter lights up like a Christmas tree, and explodes in rather spectacular fashion. Both the pilot and the gunner are able to parachute out, somehow...

Major Bludd offers the parachuting men a few more choice French words muttered under his breath.

Crush Depth brings the boat around and resumes their course back to Cobra Island, "I vould call zat a very successful mission."

Cobra Waters - Cobra Island
This region in the Gulf of Mexico belongs to the nation of Cobra and surrounds Cobra Island.

"WOooooo!" Pennington pops out of the ceiling hatch, all fired up. "That was awesome!"

Major Bludd climbs gingerly out of the rear gunner's seat, unable to keep from grinning at Pennington's enthusiasm. "Maybe you shoulda joined Demolitions or somethin'," he chuckles.

Crush Depth gradually pulls the Moray back up to the dock, where a pair of Vipers wait with mooring lines.

"Oh, but then it would just be blowing stuff up every day, you see. It's only exciting when it happens once in a while," Pennington says with a shrug. "Still. That definitely got me pumped." She peers at Bludd for a long moment like she's going to add something, but then thinks better of it.

Bludd peers at her, moving away slowly down the dock from the Vipers tending to the Moray. "I see," he says slowly. "Glad you enjoyed it."

"Are you hurt? You're, um, limping," Pennington notes, expecting a crabby answer.

Major Bludd glowers at her for a moment, then looks away with a grunt. "Yeah, I'm limping," he grumbles, "I fell on my bloody ass tryin' t'get to the 30-cals." He tosses a glare over his shoulder at the Moray, as if the boat itself is to blame.

"Hm. Sorry that happened. Vaughn was hauling ass out of there, it was hard to stay standing. I probably would've taken a trip down the deck, too, if I hadn't been inside the hatch turret." Pennington walks alongside Bludd, taking a slower pace in case he requires it. "You going to be OK?"

Major Bludd waves her concern away with a hand. "I'll be fine," he insists testily. "Jus' sore fer a few days is all."