Rip Van Boom [IC]

[Callos_DeTerran]

In the not too distant future, Earth is subjected to an alien invasion. Terrible insect-like creatures from another world, the spanthi, arrive in a vast fleet of massive, genetically engineered, biologically based space ships and attack all the nations of the world. Their weapons easily neutralize Earth’s crude satellite defenses and knock out the world’s global communication system. Billions of biological nanites are released into the atmosphere. These creatures destroy the Internet, chew through vast numbers of advanced technological components, pollute and ruin vehicle fuel of all kinds, and unleash dozens of lethal diseases that target only humanity.

This initial onslaught lasts several years. The spanthi are in no hurry. Indeed, most of their number are in cryogenic sleep, with only a skeleton crew operating their weapons. The spanthi seek to colonize humanity’s home world, not simply subjugate it. Once Earth’s ability to strike beyond its own atmosphere is eliminated, the alien fleet is content to attack humanity’s infrastructure from a safe distance. The aliens’ weaponry tears down much of humanity’s technology, but does little to harm the planet’s environment. In fact, many of the viruses and bacteria they release are designed to clean up the poisons humanity has dumped into the world’s air and water.

More and more spanthi begin making scouting missions and landing troops in areas ready for conquest. A few spanthi are defeated and a little of their technology falls into human hands, but the trend of the war is clear. Humanity cannot win without resorting to weapons so terrible they may make the planet uninhabitable.

As the governments of Earth begin to fail, a few visionaries realize that the use of atomic weapons and biological agents against the invaders will soon become inevitable. Fearing the holocaust such warfare will bring, these visionaries use cryogenic suspension technology taken from the spanthi to create Rip Van teams—groups of experts cryo-genically frozen and hidden in bunkers, ready for revival when the war is over. Rip Van teams are equipped with the training and gear to either rebuild society, or fight a guerrilla war against victorious spanthi overlords.

You are members of a Rip Van team, taken from your family, friends, and your lives in order to serve all of humanity.

Ba-dump/Beep (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGkhsaxqW1I&feature=PlayList&p=DBBAE8227E213C7C&playnext_from=PL&index=14&playnext=1)....Ba-dump/Beep...Ba-dump/Beep...Ba-dump/Beep...

Whiirrrrrr...Click.

It was the same for all of you, not a slow and gradual awakening but a sudden flush of warmth, adrenaline and amphetamines that's source was an intravenous line set into the crook of each of your elbows. The padded interior of the tube is caked in frost, but the wet sensation of water trickling down your backs is the plenty enough to tell you that even this remnant of the cold was giving way. Each of you wears a skin-tight white suit made out of a special polymer that runs down to your knees and elbows respectfully, with numerous sensor nodes placed at various vital points of the human body. All of them have wires that connect to the side of the sleeper capsules, where a heartbeat monitor can be seen which is the source of the ever present 'beep' noise that is the only interruption to your breathing. A bracelet dangles from your right wrist with a small key card hooked unto it.

That is until a flat disk begins to click, twisting to the right slowly before the cold-sleep module door opens with the hiss of escaping coolants that coalesce into a pearly mist that slowly disperses into the air. The room beyond is a stark and unfeeling gray color, due to it's steel construction, making the floor chill to the touch of your bare feet. Even the air is stiff, obviously recycled through the vents that can be spied in each corner of this sixty foot long and twenty five feet wide chamber, but they weren't the only things of note either. A total of eight pods, four to a side, were arranged into twin rows in the center of the room with a large metal locker situated behind each pod. Between the rows of pods is a square hatch situated on the ceiling and a wide desk situated in the middle of the open space with a desk-top computer hooked up to it. A single desk-chair is situated behind it, it's back facing a, frankly, massive titanium door that is securely barred shut with a keypad and eye scanner situated beside it. Not just one of the pods had opened, but numerous modules had opened up to reveal the precious cargo inside.

On the module's doors, on the outside, were instructions in various languages that instructed the inhabitants of the sleeper pods to remain calm, take stock of the situation, and to wait for the side effects of hibernation to cease. Side-effects were listed and included (but weren't limited to) loss of breath, nasuea, migraines, short-term and long-term memory loss, stomach pains, extensive aches and soreness, and temporary blindness.

Clock set...800 years elapsed. Begin defrost sequence. Heart-rates normal. Body temperature...approaching normal. Full revivification complete. Begin command playback.

The all-together too pleasant female voice emanates from the computer monitor, the speakers playing back static for a moment before a new voice spoke up. It was male, obviously enough, but sounded weary and depressed.

"Congratulations, sleeper team, if you're listening to this, you have survived cryogenic freezing. Your Rip Van team is now active. Whether we beat the creepers or lost to them, I don't know, but everyone here at command is confident you'll deal with the situation admirably either way...KSSSSHHH Shhhhhhhhh KShhh...

...this recording is years out of date by the time you are listening to it...KSSSHHHh...sending updates as long as we can...Shhhhhh...we can arrange.

Pay attention to this....KSSSHHHHh...creepers have landed...KKkksshhh...lot of things out there that can kill you...KSHHHH"

The message is broken up by static numerous times, leaving a forboding and ominous message to those left to hear it even as it loops back to the beginning and repeats it again and again. Aside from the panting of the newly thawed Rip Van team...it was the only noise in the chamber.

[Dark_Prophet]

Randolph Hermann Def 16 75/75 hp

The tall, tan skinned man grunts, wrestling with unseen assailants as he stumbles out of his Rip Van chamber. His arms flail, left and right....feeling the attachments to his body, and immediately beginning to rip them out, first the monitors, then plunging the intravenous tube free as the fluids starts to mix with blood. He leaves a trail of blood, water, and other fluids from the ripped tube as he stumbles forwards, his momentum slowing. "Vet me go...vet me go...you can't keep me there...not any longer...I'll go vith ze rest of them...you can't keep me-"

His breathing slows and he seems to calm slightly as he listens to the recording, his eyes widening. At the end of it he lets out a strangled cry, and beats his right muscled fist against the floor, again and again until it starts to run with blood, still seemingly oblivious to anyone else present in the chamber, his heavy accent blurring the decepherability. "DAMN IT! Eighd...eighd hundred yearss...god damn it! My brothersss...vere are my brotherss?!"

[ChronicLunacy]

Dr. Felix Beckett

EDIT: ****, ninja'd. Post edited to reflect DP's post. Would you mind changing your font color, dude? That yellow is like bleach in my eyes.

Felix awoke with a start as the nightmare he felt like he'd been having for a hundred years or more finally succeeded in throwing him out of his deep sleep. He recognized that it was most likely the stimulants that were being pumped into his bloodstream, but it did little to calm his suddenly racing heart nor relieve him of the burning discomfort in his lungs. Before the pod opened he felt trapped, claustrophobic, suffocated. He gasped and tried to move his arms and legs, but only succeeded in bumping weakly against the inside of the capsule. The only thing that stopped him from giving in to a sudden need to panic was his rational mind slowly catching up with his senses and the coughing fit that suddenly came over him. A few hundred years in that cold capsule made one's throat very dry and he felt like he had cobwebs in his mouth... Felix wondered if he'd slept the entire time with his mouth open, a little icicle of drool at the corner of his mouth, and swiped his hand over his face self-consciously when the coughing subsided.

Finally, the pod opened and Felix struggled to remove himself from the wires that tied him to the damned and blasted thing. Cursing to himself and coughing, he tried to sit up once, then twice, before forcing his body to lay still and let the numbness in his limbs subside. He could hardly even see for the moment, so it would do little good even if he could manage to stand. "Ooooh..." he croaked, "I feel like college."

Felix looked from side to side, examining the ceiling and the room directly in front of the open pod as he fought to remain still. The pins and needles and cramping in his limbs were excruciating and he knew it was always worse when you tried to move. "I suppose I'll just feel comfort in the knowledge that everyone here feels like hammered sh*t. Christ, I hope none of you is a morning person... Ah, and is everyone still alive?"

That's when Felix heard the hammering on the door and tipped his head up to see one of his fellow half-naked inmates (err...teammates, even) pounding on the door. "Oh for the love of mercy..." he bitched to himself as he grasped the sides of the pod and levered himself out. Felix was tall and lanky, but not too thin. He had a generous amount of brown stubble and hazel eyes pinched thin against the glare of the light. "Excuse me, but stop right this instant. I'm not in the mood to bandage up bloody knuckles. You can have your freak-out once I get my coffee. Would that be fair?" he commanded like a annoyed parent.

"Now sit down and let's behave like adults. I'm Felix Beckett, team doctor. I don't know if we've met before, but I might be experiencing some memory loss. What's your name?"

[Sir Shadow]

Sgt. Maria Herrera

It was fuzzy at first, a slow return to conscious thought as a sudden burst of dream-like wonder hit her. That was the first indication that her deep freeze was ending, and although a part of her was screaming to get up and into action, a much stronger side was demanding she rest and enjoy these last few minutes of respite. In the end, it was the intonation of the mildly annoying female recording that rocketed her into consciousness.

As her slim fingers dug to the roots of her hair, she slid forward and pulled the tube from her arm with her other hand. Moaning softly, she massaged her scalp trying to ward away the pulsing headache--a successful solution, at least until the second message popped on. A whole new level of headache assaulted her as the full weight of their precarious situation was dumped onto her shoulders, but like a true soldier, she met the burden and kept moving forward.

With a grunt, she kicked at the chamber covering, and it popped open completely. Sitting on the edge of the seat, the woman arched her back, and was met by a surprising pleasant series of pops. She rose to two feet after taking a deep breath and with a purpose she began staggaring toward the desk with the computer.

"Don't worry about me doctor, I'm not exactly the chipper type--and isn't it your job to determine who is or isn't alive?" Maria muttered after flashing a short-lived smile, as she fell into the chair and swiveled toward the computer. Before getting started however, she forced her fingers into the collar of her fitted uniform and ripped a seam into the front. Wincing, she pried the polymer-suit away from her flesh so that the 'second skin' would sit on her like a shirt. "Can't breath in these things..."

Now reasonably comfortable, she took stock of the computer and attempted to access whatever data she could. If she could find the files with the recordings, perhaps she would be able to recover more relevant information. Eight hundred years was a long time, and she'd like at least some knowledge of what had happened in the intervening time.

[PhoeKun]

Claire Masterson

The longer a dream continues, the more difficult it becomes to wake from it. Reality blurs and fades away, and you forget there is even a dream to wake from. And as it stands, Claire has been wandering in a blank, snowy field for 800 years. So it comes as little surprise when her body struggles to answer its first call to action in an eternity. Eventually, she is aware of a door. She pushes on it, but it won't move. Who would put something like this here? And what was that noise?

Her world contracts on her in a hurry. Suddenly what was curiosity becomes panic. She'll be crushed! The door has to open, she must get it open. Hsss... *click!* Freedom. Claire's heart races, her breath a ragged gasp. Where the hell? And what the hell? And who the hell? She can hear a... recording. And a man screaming, along with some other, calmer voices. Even with her body aching like she had torn every muscle in her body, she feels a massive sense of relief hearing any voice besides her own. She stumbles forward, looking for something to help her orient herself. Instead she finds a list of warnings. Migraine, yeah. Soreness, yeah. Nausea... oh dear god. She leans forward and heaves, the bitter taste of stomach acid burning her mouth.

"I... ugh."

Claire drops to one knee in a sudden rush of dizziness, putting one hand on her forehead to keep her short brown hair from falling forward in case her stomach feels the need to try and empty itself again.

[Bariko]

Michael ??????

A brief flicker of consciousness before the man opened his eyes, seeing himself sealed in. A quick few breaths quelled the rise of panic instinct thrust at him. As the door opened to his pod, the large man took a longer time than the others to emerge. A quick look at him would explain why as he used his mouth to pull off tubes and connectors on his right arm, his left arm ending in a garish stump shorty after the sleeve of his suit.

Michael, that was his name, wasn't it? Michael emerged from his pod with a purposeful step, suddenly being assaulted by the sensory information around him. A large man was yelling and beating on a floor, while nearby a girl vomited. Taking a quick look explained that she was suffering from at least one side effect of their predicament. Michael's stomach was grumbling at most, but every muscle in his body felt like it had been put in a vice. To look at him, however, one would think he was feeling nothing but calm.

"Nice to meet you, Felix. M'name's Mchael," uttered the big man as he took rapid breaths, the only outward sign of any side effects from the hibernation. "Eight hundred years..." he slowly trailed off. A hand pulled the edge of his suit farther up over his stump. "Well, the past is done. We can only see what kind of world we've woken up to."

[Catch]

Gareth Burke

A thud echoed from within the last unopened pod. There came another and another, becoming a steady pounding on the door, which jumped against its hinges. The pod lurched forward with a heavy whump and a muffled voice seemed to echo within. A metallic click and the hiss of coolant dispersed a cloud of mist and bellowed curses into the room.

"кто - там? Who dares cage a man!"

The silhouette of a man darkened the cloud, thrashed blindly, and roared in a challenging voice.

"Damn your blizzard! My red-hot soul will melt the icy chains of tyranny into the spring of vengeance! Smell the sweet flowers of ass-kicking, you whoreson cowards! Всё к чёрту! Я бы тебя отпиздил!!"

Exploding from the coolant haze in a flurry of fists was a dark-skinned man of terrible ire, beaded with moisture and panting heavily. Pinned down by his thunderous glower were not Russian arms smugglers, nor Spetznaz, or even KGB. No, there were five people naked and wet as he was. It would have been terribly embarrassing, if the man didn't fill out the body glove like a marble statue. He frowned, rubbing a temple with two fingers.

"Hrm, yes. The Rip Van project...склероз крепцхал...."

The man appears to shake off his confusion and claps his hands together, all determination once again, voice rising to fill the room.

"Alright, to business. I..." (he paused for effect) "...am Gareth Burke:
the janitor of courage - sweeping out the cobwebs of cowardice,
the harpoon of justice - hunting tyranny to extinction,
and the bare-knuckled fist of fury that will punch these aliens STRAIGHT TO HELL!"

Gareth finished with a fist in the air, which was totally inspiring and not at all contrived.

"Now, somebody tell me... what happened to my suit?"

[ChronicLunacy]

Dr. Felix Beckett

"Well, it has been eight-hundred years, so I may be a tad rusty-" Felix had begun to answer Maria when he was interrupted by the colorful appearance of Gareth Burke, bare-knuckled harpoon janitor. In response to the flurry of threats, what he could only assume to be Russian, and rather poetic introduction, Felix could only raise an eyebrow at the man.

"I must confess, we haven't found a minute to look for our clothes just yet, but if I look around I'm sure I could find you your straight jacket. Now, would you mind keeping the floral ass aggression to yourself for the moment and using your inside voice?" Felix said as he massaged his temples. "I'll be by to each of you one by one as soon as I've found my things to see how you're all coping with the hibernation sickness. Just try to keep still and take it easy for now, let yourself get used to being up and awake before you head right into the strenuous activity." he advised as he looked around for a locker where his things might be. He pulled at the skin-tight bodysuit as the others had done, trying to peel it away from his body and breathe a little easier.

[Callos_DeTerran]

Maria's efforts at the computer seemed to be stymied by the sheer age of the computer (now) and how long it has been since it had been used. One could only imagine what might have moved into the computer tower while the sleeper team had been slumbering...

But, she was more then knowledgeable enough to work around such constraints and soon had managed to significantly clean up the message before it's next loop began. Though it did require the input of the seven digit code emblazoned on the collar of her top first. With a grin of accomplishment, she reaches over to adjust the speaker volume and turn up the new message...

"Congratulations, Sergeant Herrera. If you're listening to this, then you've survived cryogenic freezing. You and your Rip Van team are now active. Whether we beat the creepers or lost to them, I don't know, but everyone here at command is confidant that you'll deal with the situation admirably either way. Though if it turns out the world is inhabited by apes, I'll understand the need to fall to your knees and curse us all.

Of course this recording is years out of date by the time you are listening to it, and one way or another all of us back here are dead. But we'll keep sending updates for as long as we can, so you'll have as complete a record of what happened as we can arrange. Which...won't be much. You remember procedure, hopefully, you start with a creeper viral agent that melts the skin off your bones, it gets into a residential area, and suddenly we aren't allowed to play with it anymore cause little Timmy might be at risk.

Pay attention to this, Sergeant. The creepers have landed and already shown us a lot of new stuff. Between the diseases, nanotoxins, and bizarre weaponry, there are a lot of things out there that can kill you. I've listed some of the more common ones. Basically if it's the any of the following colors, avoid it as if it was death itself, now be on the look out for..Kssshhh."

Memory Error
Recording Ended
Breach in bunker detected

[ChronicLunacy]

Dr. Felix Beckett

"Oh, wonderful," Felix said as he looked at the computer over Maria's shoulder, "so what we know about the things that can kill us are 'they have a color'. That should narrow it down considerably." he griped and continued past her to the lockers.

[Sir Shadow]

Sgt. Maria Herrara

"S***," with that muttered curse, Maria quickly rose. "I'm a little less concerned about what could kill us out there than what is currently breaking into our bunker." Still moving with a bit of stiffness, she made her way over to the large doors and quickly put her eye up to the scanner. Whatever they had been left, it was through these doors, and they needed to prepare ASAP.

[PhoeKun]

Claire...?

"...Rip Van?" the woman mutters, remaining in a kneeling position while holding her head as though trying to stop it from exploding.

The name sounded familiar. She remembers the story, of course. So she had probably been put to sleep for a very long time. But, why? 'Creepers'... that word kept coming up. A few memories come trickling in: news of an alien invasion, a great war... and this is clearly a military base to boot. Which makes her either a gigantic oversight, or a soldier.

Either way, the nausea and weakness continue their tag team efforts to keep her on the floor of the complex. Her head continues to reel, and her vision is swimming. She shuts her eyes tightly and shakes her head.

Stand the f--- up! Do you want to die here without even knowing your name!?

[Callos_DeTerran]

Felix quickly discovers that a locker has been attached to the back of each cryo module and that one had helpfully been emblazoned with 'Felix Beckett' across it. It opens easily enough but the contents were disappointing in one sense. The locker holds a Glock-17 with thirty four rounds of ammunition, fatigues, a tool belt, a fatigue jacket, a parka, a multipurpose tool, a basic medical kit, and twelve square packages with 'MRE' stamped across the front of them. A quick perusal of the med-kit shows that aside from basic medicine, bandages, splints, and such there really wasn't much to it. Perhaps the bunker without held more viable supplies...

As if on cue, Maria goes running up to the eye scanner, which obligingly flashes a painfully bright light into her eyes, before numerous numbers scrolled across the number pad before stopping on a combination of digits.

'11051606'

Maybe it'd pay to remember it, but then...

Clunk. Skkkkrrrreeeeee.

The ear-splitting noise was like a fire whistle when one was excessively hung over as the massive reinforced door unlocks itself and swings outward to allow the Sergeant a good look at the situation. The room that faces her is what looks like a rather professional (if small) surgery bay that was twenty feet by twenty feet. Two gurney beds sit on the left and right side of the room with monitors pushed closely about each one. A thick layer of dust and grime coats everything though meaning a thorough cleaning would need to be applied before it was sterile enough for actual surgery. Only a metal door on the opposite side of the room leads out of the surgery bay, but through the window in it, it's all too easy to see the reinforced blast doors have been forced open at the end of a hundred and fifteen foot long chamber. It seemed like it was a miracle in and of it self that the Rip Van chamber hadn't been infiltrated.

[ChronicLunacy]

Dr. Felix Beckett

Felix quickly pulled on and stowed his gear, double-checking the Glock to make sure the barrel was clear and the safety on, then picked up his medical kit and went over to where Claire was. "Hey, you look like you're getting the worst of it, eh? I'm Felix. Here, down these aspirin and take it easy. Don't rush yourself or you might pass out." he said. "Don't mind my hands, I'm a doctor, not a pervert." he added as he laid his cold palm flat over her forehead. "You should feel better given a few more minutes, but let me know if it hurts more than usual anywhere, alright? I'll find us some water." he said as he got back up. He gave Claire enough time to respond before he headed toward the surgical bay.

Once in the surgical bay, Felix checked the taps, the fridge (if there was one), and anywhere else one might possibly find drinkable water if there hadn't already been one in the kit he'd found in his locker or elsewhere in the cryo-room. He also looked for materials to build a more useful medkit while grumbling about the morons who had supplied their team. How was he supposed to take care of these people without the proper equipment? What kind of moron doesn't pack some goddamn antibiotics in the survival pack? There had to be something he could use for surgery, a basic chem kit, testing supplies, sterile materials... He just hoped they weren't too old to be of some use.

Search (If Needed): [roll0]
Knowledge (Earth and Life Sciences): [roll1] (To know what to look for.)
Craft (Pharmaceutical): [roll2] (In case he has to make something on the fly.)

[Catch]

Gareth Burke

Clearly, Gareth's introduction had failed to rally his allies around the blazing torch of manliness (which might have been somewhat disagreeable to the women of the Rip Van team.) They all must have had water in their ears, their muscles were still stiff from the cold, and it was Gareth's responsibility - his destiny - to muster this team to defeat the alien menace for good. But first, he needed pants.

Gareth found the locker attached to his cryo-pod and discovered his suit had not been packed, nor his sword. A travesty, but he pulled on the fatigues in the locker and packed the gear inside. He emerged from the locker, shotgun slung over his shoulder, and formed his best sneer. A suit would have completed the look, something Italian, double-breasted, but this was the besieged future. He'd settle for something used.

As the door shrieked open, Gareth paced across the surgery bay to peer through the window toward the corridor leading outside.

"Let's make this quick. The Spanthi and I have an appointment to keep, and it's half-past retribution time."

[Sir Shadow]

Maria winced as the blinding light assaulted her retina and once more as the door screeched open. Considering that they'd been in cryo for eight-hundred years, she was thankful that it opened at all. However, the sight that met were was not one she was quite happy with. Upon seeing the maimed blast doors, the woman whipped around and hurried back to her locker while shouting to her teammates on the way, "Suit up, guys! We're gonna have to do a sweep of the bunker before we move out or make plans."

As she pulled open the door to her locker, Maria couldn't help but roll her eyes at Burke.

[Dark_Prophet]

Randolph

Randolph groans, shivering in the background, his body finally feeling the 800 years of cryo, his mind showing him visions of death, darkness....clutching at his head while the others converse - quietening just enough to placate the doctor, keep his turmoil and disdain mental.

All of them...they didn't deserve to be here.

They weren't the ones who'd given their lives for all this.

They were just damned civies-
"-...am Gareth Burke:
the janitor of courage - sweeping out the cobwebs of cowardice,
the harpoon of justice - hunting tyranny to extinction,
and the bare-knuckled fist of fury that will punch these aliens STRAIGHT TO HELL!"

The man had Randolph's full attention as he turned his entire frame towards him. None of this fearful, tearful garbage. That was how his brothers had talked - how he had talked.

He straightened up, hearing the others talking by him, ignoring him, but watching the man...the Gareth as the man went up to the locker, following after the grizzled one. That one wasn't bad, either.

Having decided that was the right idea, Randolph makes a grunt as he surveys his own locker - taking the glock, picking it up, and then hurling it across the room with a clatter, the ammunition following. Garbage, all of it. The only things he keeps are the fatigues and the multi-tools. Tools he got along with, had always gotten along with - unlike most people.

It's then he notices the light. The door's open, and what's past it isn't pretty - the light burns his eyes, but his attention was on the man, not the woman's orders. The tall, muscled man puts a massive hand on Gareth's shoulder, a smile cracking his features as he looks down at him. "I am Randolph Ermann - I like ze way you talk." He speaks a low, accented monotone, cracking his knuckles and growling, glancing around at the others, the smile on his face widening and a murderous gleam in his eyes. "Gareth iz right - eet is retribution time. I hope zere are some Spansi for me to break here. I will punch zem in ze face for what zey have done. And zen punch them again. Until zey are dead. If they are all dead I will find zeir skeletons, dig zem up, and punch zem in the face."

[Bariko]

Michael

Michael had wordlessly moved towards a locker with his name on it once he saw Felix reappear. Opening it, he pulled on his fatigues as quickly as he could, getting caught up when as he maneuvered his stump into the other sleeve. Wordlessly, Michael immediately reached up and ripped the sleeve off at the shoulder, letting it fall on the floor and exposing his arm. With a little awkwardness, he slung the dome tent over his shoulder, tightening the strap so it wouldn't fall, and then grabbed the rest of the gear, pocketing everything and pausing to admire a set of night vision goggles.

As everyone got ready, Michael took a look around at his comrades. There was little to determine what he was thinking or even his mood as he took them in. Gareth Burke elicited an audible laugh at his "half-past retribution time" comment, as Michael stepped out prepared to work. In terms of size or strength, he was by no means a small man, and was stronger than any cripple probably had a right to be - stronger than most men, yet this Randolph was probably bigger than he, though the fatigues made it difficult to judge for certain.

Michael took a couple of steps forward before pausing and looking at his hand for a moment. Suddenly, a shimmering, glowing, wavy blue sword appeared from his hand about a foot long. Nodding to himself, the blade then vanished.

"Nothing for it but to get to work, then."

[Callos_DeTerran]

Felix finds the surgery room to be in order, the supplies seem as if they've kept rather well and there was plenty of basic medical supplies to be had that hadn't degraded during the eight hundred year period of simply laying in wait for the proper hands to come and find them. Some things obviously hadn't kept to well, having partially evaporated over the years.

Maria's locker holds a Glock-17 with thirty four rounds of ammunition, fatigues, a tool belt, a fatigue jacket, and a parka. It also contained a handbook on Department Seven (whatever that was) procedures and codes for emergency use. On the very last page were three columns. The first had a three letter combination followed by a four digit number (CMD-0406 was circled in red ink). The second held what looked like longitude and latitude numbers, while the third column merely had a 'yes or no' with one or the other underlined. Which CMD-0406 had it's 'yes' underlined. Whatever that meant.

The view outside of the surgery room is...surprisingly boring considering the ominous message that had been left on the computer. Sure, the mighty blast doors had been forced open but there looked to be little other danger present. Heck, aside from a veritable carpet of dried leaves and dust there looked to be little damage present. Numerous doors were on each side of the long hallway with a large side passage on either side. From what can be seen from the doors, it looks like various kitchen applaiances that have been tossed about all over the place. No sign of intruders yet though...

[Catch]

Gareth Burke

Leaves and dust outside the window, and a mess everywhere. Gareth glowered and stepped away from the window. "Bah. The Spanthi invade our home and don't even bother to wipe their feet."

He clapped a hand on Randolph's shoulder, and eyed him approvingly. "But you, my friend, have a soul like a strong engine. I can tell, I have an eye for such things. Burn hot and furious on the fuel of vengeance, and run your enemies into the ground, speeding tickets be damned! The road to victory has no detours!"

"Now," he said, pacing the room, tapping the shotgun on his shoulder while speaking to everyone, "the Spanthi have invited themselves as guests to our planet and our base, and as the proverb says, 'A guest has not to thank the host, but the host the guest.' Let us delay no longer and show our gratitude to our alien guests."

Chck-chck!

He dropped the shotgun to his hands and chambered a cartridge. "With bullets, that is."

Yanking open the door to the surgery bay, Gareth let in the first breath of natural air any of the operatives had tasted in eight hundred years.

[Sir Shadow]

Sgt. Maria Herrera

The sight of fatigues was like a sweet dream. Without hesitation, she ripped off the monitoring suit and quickly slipped the fatigues and jacket on. It wasn't until the familiar weight of a toolbelt was resting on her hips that she noticed the handbook sitting under a shockingly thin layer of dust. Flipping it open, she scanned it quickly but it was the last page that caught her attention. The codes were puzzling to say the least, but they obviously had something to do with the coordinates. Security codes perhaps... She'd have to read the manual more thoroughly later.

Regardless, there were more pressing matters at the moment. Maria drove a clip of bullets into the glock and moved toward the door to follow closely behind Burke. "Just watch where you point that thing."

[Dark_Prophet]

Randolph Hermann
"Ha ha! You are right! Ze aliens have vrun away!" Randolph booms as he glances at the broken in and scattered surgery, lumbering behind the two of them, cracking his knuckles and breathing in the taste of air of the new world. "Stupid, cowardly aliens! Only attack from zeir ships - not man enouf to come down in person and settle eet - like men!"

There is a expectant pause as he slowly begins to take in the surroundings outside of the base. "Because zey are aliens. Ve should go and pay zem compliments of ze host for our planet. But of course, zey will be hiding...so ve must hunt zem down."

[PhoeKun]

???

Memories slipping through her grasp like droplets of water, the woman finally manages to rise to (and stay in) a standing position. Every second that passes by leaves her with less idea of what the hell is really going on, and that... has an oddly calming effect on her.

Everyone else certainly seems completely insane. Why fight it? It's natural to go along with everything. A good soldier is accepting of her unit... right? That feels right. Feels normal. If there really are Span-whatever alien things crawling around outside, then they need to be killed for the good of mankind. She nods to herself. It feels good to have something make sense. It feels good to walk somewhere besides the icy plane. No... that had been a dream. She was asleep. Frozen... she shrugs. None of that matters. It doesn't matter who she was before the Dream, now she is... actually, that's still a good question.

She takes a couple of steps to her own locker, following the lead of the others. 'Claire Masterson'. "Oh, I was right the first time. Huh." She runs her finger over the inscription before opening it up to take a look at the contents within. Overhearing snippets of... could you call it conversation? She can't help but roll her eyes. So much bravado.

"Sheez."

[Bariko]

Michael

Michael was... unsure about his new situation. He had hoped to find something of a kindred spirit in this group. After all, volunteering to be frozen and revived as a strike force was hardly the kind of mission most people would take on willingly. But Burke was enjoying this to an immense degree, though Michael had to admit he made for a good leader figure. After all, he could make Michael laugh, and that was an important skill in this situation. Randolph seemed to be fairly focused on the violence, as if he signed up for this for the exact purpose of causing as much damage as possible. The doctor hadn't said much, but most of it was...abrasive. Sergeant Herrera seemed more focused, which was reassuring, and the other woman hadn't spoken at all.

Michael knew exactly why he was here. It was his Duty. However, teams need cohesion, some common ground to function on. As he walked forward, inscrutable, he decided to find some. "So. Why are you all on this team? Couldn't have been for the scenery."

[PhoeKun]

...Claire

"Why? I really don't have any idea."

Claire ponders the question as she slips into her fatigues, finding them oddly comfortable. She pauses to examine one of her sleeves.

"I probably knew at one point, but that would have been a long time ago, wouldn't it? If I had to guess..."

She begins lacing up her boots. They fit perfectly, of course. Everything in the room seems to be quietly whispering to her, telling her that this place is exactly where she is supposed to be. That she has a job to do, and it's time to stop putzing around and start doing it. It probably even has something to do with all of the looney talk flying around the room. Still, she hopes she's not supposed to be... she glances over at Burke... like that.

"...Because I needed to." she finishes at last.

[Callos_DeTerran]

Moving words and penetrating questions about just how one had gotten into the cryo-pods would have to wait for the moment as the brave Garth yanked open the surgery bay door and strides out into the long open hallway beyond. Unlike he might have imagined, the air wasn't exactly fresh. It actually smells like something had defecated on the floors, and recently too. As a matter of fact, it was like he had...a quick glance down was reassuring though. He had only just missed stepping in a pile of dung about the size of two footballs.

As the rest of the cryo team leave the surgery bay and begin to take stalk of the situation, they'll find numerous doors along each side of the hall as well as a coffee machine and appropriate accouterments. Thankfully it looks untouched by whatever has decided to move into the bunker proper so at least a cup of joe looks to be in the future once the current problem is dealt with and the rest of the supplies are sorted through.

But as the group begins to carefully leave the surgery bay, looking around for possible marauders, a dark shadow falls over the blast door entrance. A loud huffing noise of air being sucked into great nostrils can be heard, a tumor-ridden paw the size of a dinner plate the first sight of...it. Next comes a large shaggy head with pale eyes and yellow drool dripping down from it's jowls. The head is bear-like, but there's some odd differences such as a series of bony spurs covering the top of it's head like a shawl with lumpy fur sprouting up between them. From the center of it's mighty head rises a twisted bone-white horn that narrows down to a sharp point, kinda like a unicorns. Soon the great lumbering beast has moved further into the far end of the chamber, white eyes turned those on the far end of the hall and snuffling again. Between it's legs the operatives can see a thick, long...tail with a knobby club of bone on the very end of it that sways back and forth.

After, what seems like a moments thought, it laboriously climbs up unto two legs and lets out a rumbling roar (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eUk8OuF1C-A&feature=related) that reverberates throughout the hallway, it's malevolent bear-like gaze fixed on the 'intruders'. It's roar also does an excellent job of exposing long incisors that actually make it difficult for it's mouth to close all the way.

[Dark_Prophet]

Randolph Hermann
75/75 hp Def 16

"I am zhere because I am ze last of ze Dreadnaught project. ZE GREATEST! BUT ZHEY VID NOT ALLOW ME TO GO WIF MY BROTHERS AGAINST ZE ALIENSS! NO, INSTEAD I AM STUCK IN ZIS FUTURE WIF CIWILIANSS!" Randolph bellows, clenching his fist at the memory, holding the arm up in front of him, looking back at the strange one armed man through a haze. Movement catches his eye and brings him back to the bizarre reality beyond the surgery bay, and then sees its occupant, his face locking a little into a wide grin, as the muscles in his body seem to surge, his face flushing red. "Ahhhhh!"

"Bear, I admire your beautiful hoess! BUT!" He shakes his head, reaching over and hefting the ping pong table off to the side, with a groan, a cracking sound upends it....and lifting the bulky table up casually, turning to address the bear. "BEARSS DO NOT PLAY PING PONG! NO, I VILL NOT ALLOW EET!"

The huge, maniacally German man holds the ping pong table over his head, almost casually as he shouts at it, tensing, waiting for it to approach. "NOT EVEN MUTANT BEARSS IN APOCALYPTIC FUTURE! NO! TAKE YOUR PING PONG TABLE AND LEAF!"


Intiative [roll0]
Activating one ability surge as a free action, lasting 5 rounds
Strength check to pick up the Large ping pong table [roll1]
Readying standard action to hit the bear with the ping pong table when it approaches within range.

[Catch]

Gareth Burke

"Oh Mishka, what has been done to you?"

Gareth seemed to pity the bear. The shotgun in his hands drooped, the fire in his voice wavered, he shook his head as if at a disappointing son. With his back to the rest of the team, a strange voice emerged from Gareth - chill, hard, and not his own. It squared his shoulders, leveled the shotgun, and snapped orders.

"No head shots. Skull's too thick. Wait for it to turn, then aim above the shoulder. Heart or lung makes a sure kill. Don't dawdle, now."


Initiative: 1d20+6=21 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2585773/)

Tactical Expertise (1d20+11=21 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2585772/))
- If Gareth succeeds on a DC 20 Knowledge (tactics) check, all allies gain a +7 competence bonus to their attack rolls for 1 round.

[Sir Shadow]

Sgt. Maria Herrera

The stench hit her like a ton of bricks, but after living in the humid jungle among dozens of sweaty men in full combat outfit, she wasn't about to be knocked out by the intensity. Stepping carefully around the debri and refuse, Maria stays close to the wall and makes sure to never get in the way of her larger teammates. If there is something in here, she doesn't want to be in the wa-- oh, there it is.

Falling one knee and bringing the sight of her gun in line with the beast, she prepares to fire when the opportune moment arises. "Dreadnaught, huh?" The scientific part of her immediately begins wondering what's behind that, but with the mutated bear from the future staring her down, it's probably better to focus on one thing at a time.

(1d20+1)[15] (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=8830839&postcount=7)

[Bariko]

Michael

A moment of pause when the stench assaulted his nostrils, then Michael paused. The creature was probably a bear, and most likely a threat to the group. Gareth seemed to pity the monster, a sentiment which Michael appreciated, with a brief flashback to the effect chemicals had had on himself. The creature was either going to run, or attack. Michael would do what he had to. Wordlessly, a moment of concentration crossed his face as the blue, shimmering blade erupted from his hand while a similar sort of field enveloped his body.

Michael betrayed no hint of his emotions, no pity such as Gareth, no rage as from Randolph. While Gareth listed uncharacteristically calm instructions and advice, Michael nodded slightly; it was the right thing to tell the team. Implacably, he looked at the bear, waiting to see what his Duty would lead him to do.

Initiative of 18 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2588005/)

[PhoeKun]

Claire

The locker has taught Claire a lot about herself. She can't help but notice the zeal with which she loads her handgun, and the very satisfied feeling she gets from the sounds it makes as she loads and readies it. It's a wonderful weapon, feels great in her hands... but not quite right. Needs to be longer, a rifle of some sort. She likes to shoot rifles...

Some of these people were put here to lead, others for freakish bodies or talents. But Claire, she is now sure, was selected as a marksman. Perhaps a sniper, or an instructor. She's not quite sure on the details, but it feels nice to have something feel so natural.

The second revelation would have to wait, however. Claire moves quickly and quietly toward the others and the source of the disturbance - a giant, mutated, and above all angry bear. She swallows hard as she levels the handgun in its direction, aiming precisely where she's directed to. She gives the bear a wide berth as she lines up her shot.

Steady now... you've got a gun and he doesn't.

Initiative: [roll0]

[Callos_DeTerran]

The mutated bear eyes the invaders to what seems to be it's lair as they ready themselves for combat against it, roaring another challenge when Randolph goes running forward to pick up a large ping-pong table like a club. If anything, that seems to garner it's attention more then anything else. It's hair bristles as it bares overly long canines once more.

"RRRAAAUUUUUURRGGHHH!" it belows, even as a more peculiar noise begins to be heard.

Zzzzziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...

The source isn't immiedetely apparent...until a large rusted trashcan lifts itself up off the ground, wobbling back and forth, before launching itself through the air to impact loudly against the burly Randolph's head with a loud clang (6 points of damage).

"RRRaaauugGHH!" After the surprising display of telekinesis, the bear lands heavily unto it's front two paws and begins to rush forward as yellowish goblets of dribble splatter across the floor, heading right towards the armed group at it's loping pace.

[PhoeKun]

Claire

Jesus effing Ch-- what the hell!?

Claire's eyes widen in shock as the bear telekinetically wills a trashcan into the loud, obnoxious man's face. Mental note: the future is full of mutant psychic bears. Guns are not an automatic advantage.

She swallows nervously, and takes one deep breath to steady her aim. This isn't any kind of world she wants to live in, but that doesn't make it one she wants to die in, either. Duty, a sense of justice, or just simple survivalism, she's not sure. But she'll be damned if some f***ing freak bear was going to put her down just as she was starting to find her stride.

One arm locked straight, the other bent to support it and absorb the recoil of the gun. Both eyes open. Place your shot, exhale. Squeeze the trigger, don't pull it. Bang Bang.

Attack 1: [roll0] (Actually 25, see below) [+7 totals 32, thanks Gareth!]
Attack 2: [roll1] (Actually 28, see below) [+7 totals 35. Wowies.]

Damage 1: [roll2]
Damage 2: [roll3]

edit: I screwed up my attack bonuses. Forgot to include the +1 for Point Blank Shot, and the -2 for Lightning Shot, and didn't read closely enough to realize that Lightning Shot's second attack comes at full BAB. Attack 1 should be reduced by 1 point, and Attack 2 increased by 4. My fault for going off of memory.

[ChronicLunacy]

Dr. Felix Beckett

Not wanting to waste what little sedative he had giving the mutant bear a full dose, and not wanting to get close enough to the rampaging thing to stick it, and not even sure that one of his tiny needles would even puncture its hide, Felix unholstered his Glock with distaste. He clicked his tongue and tried to remember what they'd taught him in training about aiming low because of the pistol's recoil. He really didn't want to kill the bear, but given the choice between being eaten and living to see more mutant horrors he'd choose the latter. Besides, he wanted to perform an autopsy once the thing was dead. He aimed for the bear's lungs because he wasn't that great a shot and didn't feel confident he could hit it in the head or spine.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Dark_Prophet]

Randolph hp 71/75 Defense 16

Randolph reels back, swaying from the blow to his head and snarls, his face reddening. "Arrgggghhh! GARBAGE? NO, *YOU* ARE ZE GARBAGE, PSYCHIC BEAR!" he brings the ping pong table with both arms, cracking it across the mutated beast's back, roughly following Gareth's directions. "GARBAGE PSYCHIC PING PONG PLAYING BEAR! YOU HAVE SOLT OUT TO ZE ALIENS, HAVEN'T YOU?"


[roll0]
[roll1]
Bear needs to save versus angry german (Fort DC 15) or be knocked flat on its ass.

[Sir Shadow]

Sgt. Maria Herrera

Maria's eyes widen in shock as the bear rises up and displays several characteristics that are certainly not bear-like. Telekinesis was more than she bargained for. Before the cryo, she had heard about experiments but... this was insane. As the trashcan hit her large friend, Maria winced in sympathy, but the big guy looked like he could handle it.

The bear on the other hand, was not finished them. It seemed the beast was not quite prepared to give up it's den. Going through a mental checklist, she aligned the pistol she held with the beast and took a final, short breath before releasing the bullet.

Shooting at Bear: (1d20+12)[28]
Damage, Glock 17: (2d6)[4] (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9001363&postcount=8)

[Bariko]

Michael

Michael's eyes widened in surprise as the bear... Did it throw a garbage can with its mind? Michael blinked rapidly. Yes. It threw a garbage can with its mind. Right. Nonplussed, Michael did what he had to do.

The blue field surrounding Michael seemed almost like a wake, moving an instant after he did. The run was somewhat awkward, with his one arm held tight to his body, lacking another for counter balance. However, Michael was long used to it, and his change in pace was sudden as he raced towards the bear. While one might imagine someone like Randolph thudding with every step, Michael - no slouch on size either - ran measured, fast, long strides as he closed on the bear. The expectation is some sort of cry or yell, neither coming as Michael silently tilts his arm, angling the blade with the base of the bear's neck, where it joins the chest, an instant before the unusual weapon slides into the creature, the sound of the impact its own punctuation.

Okay, attack and damage rolls are in the OOC, 30 and 12 respectively. Used Combat Expertise to negate the charge benefit and penalty, so I'm using the bonus from Catch's boost and nothing else, keeping my Defense at 22.

[Catch]

Gareth Burke

Amidst the volley of gunfire (and other objects) Gareth was implacable. Whether the hot-blooded proselytizer had been suppressed or just evaporated, it was not clear, but Gareth had solidified into something else for the moment. The shotgun rest easily on his shoulder, he'd tucked a hand into his pocket, and he measured the team with dark eyes, as though the roaring mutant bear was simply target practice. He noticed the nervous girl - Claire, was it? - as she hesitated, then fired two shots in perfect form.

"You'd be an excellent marksman if you'd stop getting in your own way," he said, catching her eye. There was something fatherly in his face, eternally patient. "Trust your hands. They know what to do."


Charisma check (DC 10): [roll0]

As a full-round action, Gareth uses Greater Inspiration on Claire, who receives a +3 morale bonus to saving throws, attack rolls, and damage rolls for the next 4 rounds.