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Messages - Alastair Lansbury

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"No, Catherine asked for it senor, but I believe it is possible to speed up what she wants to do. Eliminate one of their resources that she had planned on doing from the inside, can be done more easily from without."

Alastair wasn't liking the talk that they were all having - with many of them carrying it on. But, there was a place and time for such talk, they didn't have time to argue over the matter. Time was running short. But, she was quickly moved away from them by one of the Delta Force members - Alastair turned to his team, rallying them up.

"Assassin, Tango 4, this is Mount Pleasant actual. Be advised you have an SBS team inbound to assist in S and R. ETA 4 hours."

"Looks like M Squadron's finally been given the go-ahead." Alastair said, with a grim expression.

Franklin folded his arms, "Don't think they'd get here in time before the fireworks kick off, eh, Sergeant?"

"Cannae say that much is going te come o' this if we keep standing around." Mac added.

There was a moment silence before they slowly wandered back towards the Delta and other elements.

"Rangers, you'll be our cordon team. Mark and target any technicals, armor, or other shit and keep that B-2 laying the hate. We'll give you our LAWs. JTF, SBS you'll be rolling into the complex itself with my team to conduct search and rescue. Questions?"

"Aye," Alastair replied with a slight raise of his hand. "What's the other QRF blokes going to be doing once they arrive if we kick off the fireworks early?"

<Brazilian Jungle Highlands, Near the Mountain Complex, Argentina>

"Remind me to avoid the parks you frequent, if this reminds you of them."

Alastair raised a joking brow as he mused over the piece of banter for precious moments before a figure had come, talking of Cate. Though his team had gotten ready for an ambush, they were quickly waved down with a cautious hand as he assessed the situation and more that she spoke, the more that he realised that this was a source that may be useful.

"She said to try a frontal assault now would be sheer suicide and she asks that you stall for at least four to five hours. She asks only for one meter of copper wire and a roll of duck tape, that is all."

"Four to five--Fuck, you're being serious..." Alastair said, scratching his head as he regarded the woman and her request, an incredulous tone taking place. "Look, we're almost ready to rock and she's saying that a frontal assault's suicidal?" He could think about the planes flying over head and the explosion that followed if they stalled. "And, you're going to be able to smuggle this past the guards, how exactly?"

They were packed with duck tape; an important element, that proved itself useful from time to time in combat. Alastair signaled to Franklin that he would get his duck tape out of his trouser pocket, keeping his gaze fixated on the woman as the others proceeded to check their surroundings for an incoming ambush.

Alastair turned to the US Element, "We reckon it's the only lead we've got. Our problem, stalling for time. But if she's telling the truth, we may just get the pilot and a couple of others. We won't be able to find this out if they all wind up dead if she doesn't get back on time."

"And, we all know what it's like to get grilled for not being punctual. 'Cept, she's going to pay with her life." Doc added, his lips pressed into a tight line.

<The Jungles Near the Border of Argentina/Brazil, 1015 LOCAL>

"Friendlies in the brush."

It was just as Franklin was about to call it, but it seemed the US element had indeed spotted them first. Alastair and his team all stood to group and greet them.

"How's the jungle finding you gents this morning?"

Al nodded, "Like a walk in the park, right, gents?" He shot the question over to his team, who all had the same response - though the delivery could do with a little work.

It was standard training, and they did a lot of training in different terrain, though being in Argentina on an operation held a higher risk factor than when they were dropped off and expected to survive. Alastair was about to ask another question but shut up when the Yank spoke.

"Boss, I've got the Stingray feed. We've got bookoo heavily armed assholes roving up there. Looks like they just pulled in two military APCS. And some high speed, low drag mother fuckers just got out."

That did not sound good.

Compared to the Cartel guys that they had ran into sounded like kids with guns, "Bloody hell...least, it's not just us anymore, glad to finally have some company around. What's the plan?" He asked as the rest of his team fell into their positions.

<The Jungles Near the Border of Argentina/Brazil, Crash Site>

"Be advised, runner is EKIA - break - we have split an element off to get eyes on that shot. Likely came from crash site. Request that you rally with us at grid 142847."

Frank was the one to reply, "Roger that. Break. Will rally with you at given coordinates." He nodded at Alastair, relaying what had been said as their leader dug out the map, pin-pointing exactly where they needed to head. "Looks like we're going to be hauling our arses over here, Al."

"Aye, let's do it, lads." Alastair gave the go ahead so they started to move out, he pocketed the radio that they had obtained and he turned it down low. At some point, he would have to tell the others that they had managed to acquire a cartel frequency radio.


“Assassin 4 Actual to all Assassin, Crusader, and Tango 4 elements… we found the downed jet, and evidence of a struggle. All evidence points to possible capture, I say again, the possible capture of our pilot. Over.”

"This is Tango four, roger that." Frankie replied.

They continued to move, their pace quickened by the mere fact that they were dealing with a hostage situation. They all had their share of SERE training, but this was something being applied to the real-life scenario that they had been thrown in.

Eventually, they had managed to get to the designated coordinates. Alastair checked that their immediate surroundings were clear before waiting on the Delta element.

"Tango 4-2 actual this is Crusader actual, interrogative do you have eyes on where that shit came from, over?"

"This is Tango 4-2 actual, we do not have eyes on. Break. Guessing the shot came from or nearby to the downed bird. Over." Alastair replied, his eyes darting between his teammates.

He was getting itchy, the feeling of dread having needed to be quelled by the mind. Alastair did not want to be sitting ducks for who ever was going to roll along the road in front of them, and from the looks his team was giving him, neither did they.

"How copy on the runner?" Alastair keyed into his radio, having heard light gun fire and an explosion from the opposite direction of the downed bird. "Heard an explosion, over."

"Fucking hell, Al, what are we doing digging dirt whilst the pilot could have been taken or killed by now?" Mac replied, his jaw tight and frustration apparent.

"Probably should rain check that, Mac," Franklin commented, stepping forward towards Mac and lightly gripping the collar of his shirt, locking eyes. "Al doesn't like being inactive as much as you do, hell, none of our team do with such a critical mission - but keep your head in the game, my friend."

Alastair watched from a distance, he knew that Mac respected Franklin - the fact Frankie had been put as second in command was no mistake. He got onto the top of the truck, checking out their surroundings as Mac muttered something below him as they returned to their positions. Franklin glanced up at Alastair and gave him a curt nod. "See anything up there, Al?"

"Fuck all, Frankie." Al replied, lowering the sniper away from his eye. His radio cackled, it was their CO.

"Tango 4-2 actual, be advised. M Squadron, Alpha Troop, have landed in the Falklands. Break. They are going to be sent your way. Break. Will update when information arrives. Over."

"Roger, out." Alastair said. "Listen up fellas, looks like we're not going to be the only UK element - M Squadron's been deployed in support. Seems like they wanted a piece of the action too."

"What bloody action?" Doc mused jokingly.

"Seems like the site's all clear, Sergeant. Got all bar one, and he's running towards our brothers across the pond," Mac joined the group, his face showing the achievement, having found a radio in hand. "Cartel's got to communicate some how. They decided to stash it under their seats, cheeks gits."

"Everyone's all good, no wounds?" Alastair said, prioritizing the situation whilst they had a moment of peace. "Frank, tell them that the site's secure. We're going to rendezous here before moving--"

In the distance, the birds took flight. Alastair's eyes went to a clearing in the canopy, his brow narrowing. It had become second instinct to trust the animals that inhabited the jungle, they were tell-tale signs that something had gone wrong. It was a gunshot. All eyes were back on him as he paused for a moment - his mind turning to the worst, but he needed to override it and presume that Cate was still alive.

"This is Tango 4-2 Actual. Gunshot in the distance. Break. What is your ETA, over."

Franklin exchanged glances with every other member on the patrol, their minds having come to the came conclusion. "Al?"

His jaw tightened. They would have moved out now, but they needed to hold position and wait for back up. The firefight could have attracted attention of people who had the means of holding their ground against four men. "Stow it. We're continuing this mission, there are other possibilities, so don't just focus on one. We're holding position, so, make sure your weapons are functioning."

For what it was worth, the team had been stuck into hairier situations than the one that they had been locked into with the cartel. Though most of them were good shots, the element of surprise had been on their side.

"Tango 4, Crusader. Roger troops in contact. Interrogative - you boys need assistance, over."

"This is Tango 4. Assistance may be needed. Over."

Al looked at Franklin, signalling for them to push up closer to the truck. Bullets whizzed past them, some hitting the ground just inches short of them.

"Got a fuckin' runner! Left flank!" Doc shouted, turning to face the younger boy running, AK clasped in his hand. Probably their messenger if shit hit the fan. Alastair was quick on the trigger, but the fire coming in from in front of them meant that Doc would have to take him by himself.

He keyed his radio, "Crusader, Tango 4-2 Actual. Be advised, hostile heading your way. Break. May be the cartel's messenger. Break. He's running the wrong way. Over." Alastair allowed himself to smirk slightly at the fact, but pissed that the boy managed to get away. Though in the heat of the battle, there had been certain calls that needed to be made.

"Bollocks," He muttered. Glancing around, they did a check to make sure that their enemies were all accounted for. Alastair kneeled down next to one, definitely cartel. "Mac, Frankie, check the truck. If there's anything useful, grab it."

Historical Missions / Re: Urgent Mercy (Operation Whirlwind Phase I)
« on: April 29, 2017, 01:58:09 AM »
Near San Pedro, Argentina, 0615 LOCAL

"Tango Four-Two, this is Bravo Zero. Be advised that friendly US SOFs are in play..."

Command crackled over the Bowman radio headset as they began to list out the callsigns for their friendlies from over the pond who had recently made the drop in-country.

"This is Tango 4-2 Actual, solid copy. Out."  Alastair replied, nodding as the comms went silent.

He had made the relay to the rest of his team as they proceeded to entrench themselves in the dense jungle, Franklin had cut a path through. Little words had been exchanged, for they had opted to go with silence and hand gestures. It was reminiscent to countless days of training in the heat of Belize, countless days walking upon feet blistered in a test of endurance.

A faint sound had snapped him back into reality, his senses alert and eyes around the jungle. Sounds could have been from anything; from birds to whatever wild life inhabited Brazil's jungles. Franklin held up a fist, signalling for all four to take a knee. Silence engulfed the patrol, as the faint sound began to become clearer. Alastair took hold of his sniper rifle, nodding to Franklin as he took over point.

It was soon clear that they were shortly going to run into a small cartel patrol. Calling Franklin up to his side, he was going to establish a net check, they needed to update their friendlies for possible contact.

"Tango 4 to Assassin 3, Crusader Actual, we may have possible enemy contact, over." Franklin said, his voice low so they did not attract attention at this early stage.

Johnathan "Mac" MacDonald had been moved up front, ready to provide covering fire and Doc being moved back behind cover.

"Got one truck heading our way, and two sets of four foot mobiles," Alastair rested his cheek against the stock of his rifle, closing one eye as he focused in on the driver's side of the oncoming truck. ""

He applied second pressure. The bullet whistled through the air, and soon, the driver's side became painted red. The whole patrol had come to a standstill, a frantic movement of limbs as they all attempted to locate where the bullet had originated from. Alastair had fired off another three shots before the cartel had honed in - bullets spraying wildly around them as his own team returned fire.

"Shit!" Alastair cursed, a bullet inches away from his scalp as it slammed into the tree behind. He moved position, signalling for Mac and Doc to flank around the enemy. They needed to make it look as if it was not just a one to four ratio.

Historical Missions / Re: Urgent Mercy (Operation Whirlwind Phase I)
« on: April 28, 2017, 02:49:15 PM »
Coordinates came blasting across the silence that was their make-shift FOB - a small hut in relative distance to the border, having since been left abandoned. Alastair had reached for his radio as he listened in, finger tracing the coordinates on the small map pinned to the wall. Once he had gathered the necessary information, it was time to fill his team in.

"Alright lads, we've got intel on a crashed friendly by the Argentina/ Brazil border, RAAF. ROE, anyone armed belonging to the cartel or the Argentine Military are now hostile. We are going to be accompanied by our friends from across the pond," Alastair relayed, hand planted on one side of the table in which the map had been spread open as the other pointed to the position. His team listened intently, their own eyes reviewing the map. "Questions? No. Alright, let's rock lads."

Alastair had grabbed his rifle, pistol and his vest, which had been leaned against the nearby wall and threw the sling across his chest as he checked his pistol's ammo before looking up to see the lads getting ready, game faces on. It was high priority and having been in-country for a period of time had exposed them to the dangers that they faced. Heading out to the border was not going to be easy, it was one of the many trade routes for the drug cartels.

But, this was why they had trained in the jungle for days on end, to make sure they were comfortable for situations that happen to be in the jungle - an environment that was unforgiving to those that fought against it.

Each of his team knew their positions, their arcs of fire and had trained day upon day for missions. They were not too far off their designated location, however, a couple of Klicks stood between them and their target with everyone wanting their heads upon a silver platter.

They had made entry to the dense undergrowth, thin layers of sweat already forming on their foreheads. As usual, Franklin had taken point, and Johnathan was their 'tail-charlie.'

"Sergeant, aren't you growin' a beard?" Franklin asked over his shoulder.

"Don't think I'm pretty enough, Frankie?" Alastair replied, chuckling. "You've got a ferret on your face, I don't think I could pull that shit off with a razor."

Mission Requests / Re: Damsel in Distress
« on: April 27, 2017, 08:17:04 PM »
My worry would be that maybe it can become quite non-inclusive as if a pilot had gone down, it probably would need maybe two units sent out? Unless maybe if she does get taken by the Tali, could discover that there are more hostages - therefore may need more people to tackle the situation.

Just my thinking anyway, feel free to disagree.

Mission Requests / Re: Damsel in Distress
« on: April 27, 2017, 07:11:40 PM »
Definitely will be throwing Al into it :)

Personnel Files / Re: Lansbury, Alastair
« on: April 27, 2017, 06:40:48 PM »

Personnel Files / Lansbury, Alastair
« on: April 27, 2017, 05:18:55 PM »
Played By: Thaddeus



    Full Name : Alastair Gordon Lansbury

    Age/ Birthday: 36 / 13. 7. 1981

   Nationality : British (Scottish)

    Rank, Title or Position : Sergeant - SBS - UKSF

    Height: 6'0"

   Build: Muscular

    Related Skills:

  • Languages spoken: English (fluent), Spanish (proficient), French (proficient), Chinese; both Mandarin and Cantonese (limited), Arabic (limited)
  • Martial arts: Judo, Krav Maga, MMA
  • Weapons handling
  • Swimmer Canoeist
  • Combat diver
  • Submarine Infiltration
  • SERE
  • Airborne qualified
  • Reconnaisance: Underwater and beach

   Unrelated Skills:

   Credentials: Sniper school, Swimmer canoeist (SC3) training course, ACSIC (Army Combat Survival Instructor Course), SF Parachute Course (RAF Brize Norton)



Standing at 6'0", Alastair is of average height and keeps himself in reasonable shape - for which hitting the gym on a regular basis had become the norm. He is muscular, but not overly so. He holds himself at a high standard, in which also holds pride, as looking sharp and dressing correctly was quickly forced into their brains when he had joined the Marines.

He does not bare any tattoos, nor any such evidence of piercings.

Alastair keeps his hair short and neatly trimmed, shaves regularly unless the mission requires a beard to be grown.
Alastair is a quiet individual, not quiet as in shy, but he is very much the observant kind. He tends to hold people that he has yet to make an acquaintance with at arms length before breaking the ice and introducing himself.

For most parts, he has a dry sense of humor and an abundance of sarcasm picked up over the years. Al embodies the Royal Marine Corps values, which had been instilled in him through the 32 week long course - and certainly has plenty of cheerfulness in the face of adversity, no stranger to cracking a joke when the situation allows. He hardly steps out of line and in his adult years, finds himself less and less able to be angered and keeps a cool head under pressure.


  • Guitar player
  • Woodwork - mostly just whittling
  • Sports: Kayaking, rugby, swimming, hockey and football
  • Fishing
  • Reading in general
  • Musical interests: Bon Jovi, Linkin Park, Bee Gees, Coldplay, The Clash, Rolling Stones

 Field/Work Experience:

  • Afghanistan
  • Iraq
  • Brunei
  • Libya
  • Training missions: Brunei, Norway, Joint-training exercises, Canada, Belize, Kenya

 Personal History:

Born to Elizabeth and Robert Lansbury, Alastair "Al" Gordon Lansbury was the middle child of three; his eldest sister, Sophia and youngest brother, Daniel. They were born in Edinburgh, Scotland but they had moved house shortly after Alastair had been born due to Robert getting a new job offer down in London. Both of his parents had little to no connection to the military, for his mother was a teacher at a local primary school - the school in which Alastair had been a part of until he moved into secondary school and his father was a professor of History.

For most teachers, they would have presumed from coming from a middle class background, Alastair would be one of the more well-behaved students of the class. Though he was quiet and got on with the task at hand, there were periods in which the young boy would get riled up. Fights were regular and his best friend was the principle, it was during his secondary years where things began to get a little rocky between his parents and when he turned thirteen, his parents had divorced.

The eldest of the trio had already moved out to live by herself with her own boyfriend, and the youngest had gone with their father. Alastair spent his time split between the two parents as they could not agree to terms on which had parental custody over him. It made for a rocky start to his teenage years, and the anger still remained. it was not until the school had taken them onto a careers fair down in the Docklands that it had opened his eyes to the military. He knew of the military, having watched films and TV series but it had never seemingly crossed his mind as a career choice - having been pegged as an academic.

He was not a land person, having been swimming from an early age - so the Royal Navy had already appealed to him. It was through research and help from those at the fair to show him that the Royal Marines were indeed something that connected with him. At 16 and once he had finished his 11 GCSEs, he opted for the Commandos rather than continue his education, which some of his family had told him it was a waste of his academic life.

His father nor his mother could comprehend what was happening, causing them to join once more as close friends to discuss their son's career choice. They knew he was not going to be deployed until the age of 18, but it was news to them. Alastair seemed set on his path and there was no words nor arguments that could change his mind.

18 rolled around quicker than anyone could have expected, Alastair had been trained and shaped into a Commando. The changes were drastic; from the young boy who started fights to the cool and level headed decision maker. He stood taller, his shoulders no longer slumped as self-confidence began to rise. The following week after his passing out, Alastair had been sent on his first deployment to Afghanistan.

The first of many.

At 22, Alastair had been on several deployments and training exercises. It was here where the world of UKSF had been opened up to him by his CO and it was a chance he had taken - his new goal to become a badged member of the SBS.

Six months in hell waited for him and 200 plus other candidates.

200 volunteers had been quickly cut to half by the time they had been 1/4 into the course, 10 remaining by 3/4 and only 3 had been the lucky survivors of selection.

Alastair had been among the three. But he knew not to celebrate too prematurely, for more work needed to be done once his beige beret had been earned - Boat and Dive training awaited him, one step closer to becoming a fully-fledged swimmer canoeist.

He had become part of the special forces community in 2004 and never looked back since.


Elizabeth Lansbury [Mother]
Robert Lansbury [Father]
Sophia Lansbury [Sister, eldest]
Daniel Lansbury [Brother, youngest]
Franklin "Frankie" Harris [Team]
Johnathan "Mac" MacDonald [Team]
Daniel "Danny" Hobbes [Team]

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