Sgt. Tony Jarrett "Loki"
ODST from Harvest; currently assigned to USNC Hercules
Sgt. Tony Jarrett “Loki”
Height: 6’ 3"
|Level||Class||Exp Pts||Next Level|
|Con||16||+3||Hit Points||Damage Threshold||Flat-Footed|
|Attribute||Total||Lvl or Armor||Class Bonus||Ability||Misc|
|Fort||18||= 10 +||1||2||3||2|
|Ref||19||= 10 +||5||1||4||0|
|Will||11||= 10 +||1||0||0||0|
Base Attack Bonus:
- Ranged +5 +6 with VISR
- Melee +2
|Armor Proficiency – Light||Weapon Specialization – Rifles (+2 Damage)|
|Armor Proficiency – Medium|
|Point Blank Shot (+1 Attack/Damage @ PB)|
|Weapon Prof – Simple|
|Weapon Prof – Pistols|
|Weapon Prof – Rifles|
|Weapon Focus- Rifles (+1 Attack)|
|Weapon Prof – Heavy|
|SKILLS||BONUS||=||1/2 LVL||ABIL MOD||TRAINED||MISC|
|KNOWLEDGE: PHYSICAL SCIENCES||4||=||1||3|
|KNOWLEDGE: LIFE SCIENCES||4||=||1||3|
|KNOWLEDGE: GALACTIC LORE||4||=||1||3|
|M6C SOCOM MAGNUM PISTOL||BALLISTIC||+6||20||2d8||12 RDS / MAG (10 Mags)|
|M7C SUBMACHINE GUN (SUPPRESSED)||BALLISTIC||+7||20||3d8 +2||48 RDS / MAG (5 Mags)|
|COMBAT KNIFE||PIERCING||+2||20||2d6 +1|
|WARTHOG 50 Cal||BALLISTIC||+6||20||2d12|
M6C SOCOM Automag (2d8)
M7S Caseless Submachine Gun – Supressed (2d8 burst-5, 3d8 auto-10)
ODST Battle Dress Uniform (BDU) (+5 Ref, 2 Fort, +3 Max Def, 15 min EVA)
VISR (+2 Perception, No low light penalty, +1 Aim)
Combat Knife (2d6 + STR)
UNSC COLONY WORLD EPSILON ERIDANI IV, EPSION ERIDANUS
SYSTEM, AUGUST 23, 2540 (MILITARY CALENDAR)
“Hey! Special Forces!” Tony looked up from his catalog and across the garage to where the el-tee hopped off the gantryway. He hated when McNamarra called him that. But he forgot about that quickly when he saw the second man behind him. Taller than the loot by a good fifteen centimeters, built like a tank, and judging from the armor, ODST for sure.
“Get off your ass and get over here,” McNamarra barked. Tony climbed up off the ammo crates, tossed his cigarette over his shoulder into the waste barrel by the empty fuel cans, and crossed the motor pool to where the two officers stood waiting. He stopped in an almost attention and slapped off half a salute, waiting for the stream of profanity that only the Lieutenant could produce. Instead, it was the ODST that spoke.
“Is that how you present to your superior officer?” he spoke calmly, but with far more command in his voice than Tony had ever heard from anyone besides his uncle. The ODST, a Captain Tony was now sure, stood at ease, battle helmet under one arm, DMR in a harness on his back. The holstered mag on his thigh and the impressive knife strapped to his chest plate both gleamed with threat and authority. Tony immediately snapped to full attention.
“Sir, no sir,” Private First Class Anthony Jarrett snapped a crisp salute. Lieutenant McNamarra also seemed to straighten up a bit, his jaw hanging slightly open as he gawked at the senior officer. Then he recovered himself and looked back at Tony.
“Private, the Captain here would like a tour of the outlying,” Tony could still hear the el-tee’s usual derision as he spoke. “Go get a hog and drive him wherever he wants to go. And see he makes his Pelican at sixteen hundred.”
“Yes sir!” Tony saluted again and ran out of the garage to the side lot. He stopped and looked over the row of neatly parked Warthog Assault vehicles. He considered one of the ones at the far end with the fifties mounted rear. That would be a sweet patrol with a gunner sweeping the hills for ambushes as he pointed out the suspected (and known) rebel outposts to a captain from the ODSTs. But he didn’t have a gunner and technically was still on probation from Martinsville. So he opted for the closest scout hog. Fast and light, the vehicle handled like a dream on any terrain and accelerated like a drop pod breaking the atmosphere.
With practiced routine, Tony checked the tires, inspected the batteries and fuel cells, and jumped into the drive seat. He thumbed the starter and the hog growled to life. PFC Jarrett grinned in spite of himself. The vehicle was a beast and Tony was rarely happier than being behind the wheel. He gunned the hog out of the spot and spun a tight 180 to bring it around to the front of the garage where the two officers waited. Skidding to a stop before them, Tony parked the hog, jumped out and saluted again.
“Ready to go, sir!”
The ODST stepped forward, pulling the DMR from his back.
“Secure this,” he ordered, pressing the rifle into Tony’s arms. Both Tony and the el-tee gaped at this, but the Captain appeared not to notice as he walked around behind the vehicle. Tony smirked at the loot as he hefted the rifle. McNamarra scowled and Tony quickly turned and locked the rifle into the rack behind the front seats.
The Captain was already strapped in when Tony climbed back into the driver’s seat. “Where to, sir?” he asked.
“Just follow the highway north,” the Captain gestured towards the gates. Tony nodded and gunned the hog, spinning another tight turn and racing for the main gates. Twelve foot chain fences topped with coils of razor wire surrounded Homestead base, but the main gates stood open wide and they raced through uncontested and followed the dirt road out towards the highway.
“Are the gates always unmanned?”
“Usually, sir,” Tony replied. “Not much happens this far out from the city so there isn’t usually a need.”
“Is that so?” the Captain started to say and then stopped as they hit the highway – literally. The hog lurched and jumped as Tony hit the paved surface at just over fifty kph. He cranked it over and skidded across the four lane road, then dropped the gear and punched it north. The hog’s engine screamed and the tires spun leaving stripes of smoking rubber on the pavement behind them. Tony was pressed back into his seat as they accelerated to 150 kph.
“Nice turn, Private,” the ODST nodded once they had reached cruising speed. “Are you certified to operate this vehicle?”
“Yes, sir,” Tony had to shout to be heard over the rushing winds. “Fully checked out on and off-road for all hog classes. Licensed for light Pelican ops too and working on my Scorpion certs when I can. Don’t usually have a tank around these parts though.”
“Have you flown any missions?”
“Mostly local transport, sir. A few up orbital. Nearly docked with Gamma Station once.”
“Nearly?” the captain cocked an eyebrow.
“I came in a little hot, sir. The JAG dropped all charges in that one,” Tony answered as honestly as he could, hoping he didn’t have to go into further detail. The Captain nodded and turned to the road apparently ending the conversation. Tony followed the highway past the cut-off for Phoenix and continued north into the barren foothills. They passed occasional traffic as they drove in silence. Another twenty five minutes passed when the highway narrowed.
“Sir,” Tony broke the silence. “We’re coming up on Mansfield. There’s been a fair amount of trouble up this way. Seps’ve been pretty hot up here. You want me to skirt around? There’s a track I can…”
“You accustomed to running from trouble soldier?” the Captain’s gaze remained out on the road as he spoke.
“No, sir,” Tony tried to swallow the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. “I just thought…”
“Proceed into town and reduce speed,” Tony obeyed without question. “And kill the transponder.” Tony looked back at the Captain twice before popping the panel on the dash and pulling the wire powering the hog’s black box. He brought them down under 60 kph as they hit the outskirts.
“Sir,” Tony hesitated. “Just so we’re clear sir, there hasn’t been a convoy through here that hasn’t taken some fire in weeks.”
“Sir?” Tony was confused. “Yes, sir. The convoys are always…”
“Not the convoys, son, the opposition. Have they been organized?”
“No sir,” Tony shook his head. Free standing buildings, homes and shops lined the road, which downgraded again from highway to local. The occasional pothole or small crater gave a view of a town that was falling rapidly into disrepair. “It’s always been random sniper fire or small groups. At least what I’ve heard, anyway.”
“Turn here,” the Captain seemed to know where he wanted to go, as he indicated a series of turns through town and off the paved roadways into the dirt tracks around the warehouse districts. Normally, the warehouses would be full of ore to be uploaded shipside for processing on Tribute. But since the insurrection had reached this area, crops had been shipped all the way to the elevator at Phoenix or else taken directly up into Orbit.
The Captain seemed to be looking for something in particular as he had Tony loop around several times. Tony was about to ask what they were looking for when the first shot hit. It had sounded like a 99B, which could gut his engine block with a single shot, but he couldn’t be certain. Without thought, Tony gunned the engine and swerved. There was a rattle of gunfire as an assault rifle gouged the road beside them. Then he saw the rocket launcher.
A man in blue overalls stepped out from beside a small outbuilding and raised the launcher at them. There was a burst of flames as the rocket fired. Tony reversed his turn and punched the hog forward. The rocket went just wide, striking the road behind them. The hog was thrown upward into a roll and Tony felt his harness bite into his shoulders as he was pressed into his seat.
As the hog went into a roll, Tony quickly turned with it and gunned the engine. The tires hit the ground again and caught, and Tony spun back the other way, righting the vehicle and aimed right towards the rocket launcher. The rebel was struggling to load another rocket when the Captain rose up in his seat, sidearm in hand. There were two quick pops and Tony saw both shots take the man in the head.
“They’re behind us in that red building,” the Captain pointed over his shoulder. Tony swung the vehicle into a 180 and surged forward. Again he heard assault rifle chatter, and then a grenade went off close by. Tony wasn’t able to correct this time, and the warthog tumbled to a stop on the driver’s side.
“Get the DMR,” the Captain ordered as he climbed over the top. Tony heard several shots from the Captain’s pistol as well as another burst of assault fire as he freed the DMR from its rack and scrambled out the hog’s roof. Clutching the rifle tightly, he peaked around the back of the hog.
One man lay unmoving in the road, an AR on the ground nearby. The Captain was advancing along the side of a building when a second man also armed with an AR stepped around the corner ahead of him. Tony had never seen someone so fast, as the Captain dropped to a knee, sighted and fired a single shot. The reb took the shot just below his chin, and his head snapped backward in a gout of blood.
Tony was about to stand up when he heard the sniper rifle again. The ODST spun around and dropped to the ground. Tony looked up and saw the man standing on the roof of the next building. The sniper was taking aim again when Tony brought up the DMR and opened fire. Rounds sprayed the building near the man, and he ducked for cover.
Tony moved forward, keying the DMR’s scope to try and find the roof-top sniper. He was so focused that he didn’t heard the approach until the Captain snatched the rifle from his grip.
“Follow me,” he said as he locked a fresh magazine into the rifle. “Don’t shoot much, do you?”
“Pistol, sir” Tony followed, realizing he hadn’t drawn his sidearm yet. He pulled it as they reached the building. “Some AR and subgun too. But I haven’t…”
“Now’s not the time, solider” the Captain interrupted, and Tony stopped. “Cover our six,” the ODST entered the building and headed right for the stairs, moving as though he already knew the layout of what Tony guessed had been a three-story barracks building for local miners. They moved quickly up the steel stairs that switched back and forth past the second floor. They heard a door open somewhere above them, and as they reached the third floor, Tony could see the roof access above them gaping ajar.
The Captain pointed to Tony and then to the third floor access. Tony nodded and watched the door as the ODST shouldered his rifle and climbed the ladder up to the roof. The Captain peeked twice and then rolled up through the trap door.
Tony waited below, watching alertly and straining to hear any noise from above when he heard someone running. He looked up just as a man dropped down from the roof access, landing in a heap and clutching a long barreled sniper weapon. Time froze as they looked at each other stunned. Then the sniper started to scramble.
Again, Tony didn’t think. He swung his pistol around and fired twice. The first shot missed completely, ricocheting off the concrete walls. The second took the sniper in the stomach, throwing him back to the floor where he writhed, grabbing the wound and kicking in pain. Tony quickly pulled the sniper rifle away and took a step back, keeping his own weapon pointed at the man.
“Nice shot,” the Captain’s voice sounded calm as always as he climbed down the ladder.
“Let me see that,” he reached for the sniper rifle. “99C-S2. Military issue. Where’d you get this?” he asked the wounded man.
“Screw you,” the man coughed through clenched teeth.
“He got it from the 14th,” Tony answered. The Captain turned; questions clear on his face. “The Captain there says these guys are just trying to defend what’s rightfully theirs. They usually just shoot at off-worlders and convoys. They don’t normally come after locals.”
“You’re aware of this?”
“Yeah, everyone is,” Tony nodded. “El-tee says to just keep it quiet and they won’t bother our station. But I figure if they’re gonna shoot at me, screw ‘em. And screw the loot too… sir.” Tony added, wondering if he’d just said too much.
The Captain considered this for a few moments while the sniper bled on the floor between them. Then he said, “Okay, let’s go.”
“What about him?” Tony gestured at the man on the floor.
“What about him?” the Captain asked. “Do you want to bring him in?”
Tony hadn’t expected the question, and thought about it for a minute. “My uncle is Judge on the panel for this system. He’s over on Reach just now. He says it makes him sick to have to bring judgment on folks from here.” Tony considered this a moment and then raised his pistol. The sniper’s eyes grew wide as Tony pointed the gun and fired once.
“I hate people making my uncle sick.”
They descended back down to street level and walked over to the upset warthog. Tony gave a heave, and the hog righted itself with ease. They climbed in, the Captain holding the DMR this time and watching the rooftops closely as Tony fired the engine and got them moving.
“Head for Phoenix,” the Captain instructed. Tony pulled the hog onto the road and made his way back to the highway. They were ten minutes out of town when the Captain spoke again.
“You’re not from here, are you?”
“I’m from Harvest, sir,” Tony clenched his teeth. When the Captain motioned for him to continue, he did reluctantly. “I got off in the evac in ‘25. My folks didn’t. I was nine. They sent me here cause of my uncle. Been stuck on this rock since.”
“This uncle of yours,” the Captain said. “Was he on the board when you… docked that pelican?” Tony tried not to grin, and failed. “He got you the posting? The extra training?” Tony nodded silently, not quite comfortable with where this was heading.
“Is your uncle loyal?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Tony replied emphatically. “Tried and true. He’s just been looking out for me is all. Making sure my skills are honed and I’m used to the best of my ability. His words, sir, not mine.”
The Captain seemed to consider this for a long while. They were hitting the turn-off to Phoenix when he apparently came to a conclusion. “Son, I think I’ve got a job for you if you’re interested in making a jump off this rock.”
Tony eyes widened and he smiled. “Feet first, sir! Feet first!”