Jon, The Evil DM |
Borax, the main reason it's useful to do so is because failing a roll while you have a Compkication results in a negative consequence. That can range from Fatigue or Wounds to outright Incapacitation or death, depending on the circumstances. You may lose a guaranteed success, but you nullify the chance of something like that happening, whih is worse in the long run.
Also, I mesnt to mention this; because Dramatic tasks are different from combat, you can't use things like 3RB. I've been mentally subtracting the -2, but so far you'd have had the same result either way.
Jon, The Evil DM |
Apologies, I forgot that Jacob had posted rolls in Discussion.
While the group had a good start, the alien horde has begun to bear down with force. Jackalyn manages to slice through a number of the swarming little grey men and Rosa takes down a group of them with a few bursts of automatic fire, but the rest of the squad isn't so lucky. Jacob and Gavril are forced to retreat as one of the insects nearly cleaves Gavril's head from his shoulders, and a few Floaters harass Jacob and chip away at the rubble shielding his body. Kristophe and Borax fair no better, as a strange robotic monstrosity crashes in behind the others. Borax takes a few shots but they glance off the machine's armor, and as it gets in closer Kristophe is forced to fall back as the other creatures are emboldened by its presence. A few seconds later, a hail of plasma forces the two and abandon their position and sends them sprinting back towards the now-landing helicopter. "Come on, get in!" the lieutenant calls, himself firing off a few rounds at the robot before abandoning the cause. "We're outta here!" The creatures swarm towards the helicopter, but the lieutenant climbs in and takes over the mounted machine gun; he mows down a group of them as the squad makes a mad dash for freedom.
After the squad and other living Peacekeepers board, the helicopter takes off just as the lieutenant kicks away the corpse of one of the grey men, having just shot it through the chest. As it gains elevation, the chopper's pilot fires off a few missiles towards the robot; it seems to recoil from the impact, but even that fails to take it down. "Stay sharp, everyone!" the pilot calls, kicking the helicopter into full-throttle. "We're gonna have company!" Just as he says it, a large group of Floaters breaks off from the foes on the ground and begins firing on the chopper, while the robot itself unleashes a barrage of plasma fire in your direction. The helicopter wrenches sharply to the side as the plasma flies harmlessly past, but the Floaters keep making chase.
At the end of Round 3, we are at 14 Successes with 10 banked Raises. The dramatic task continues, but now you have to roll Shooting. This round, only Jackalyn draws a Complication for a -4, so the rest of you roll at -2 as normal. While Jacob is out, the rest of you may roll Bennies as normal if you wish.
Rosa Vasquez |
"F*ck this," Rosa says as the giant death robot hammers their line with god d*mned plasma cannons. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!" She turns and sprints for the chopper, leaping on board and firing another spray of bullets to cover the rest of the squad as they board the chopper.
Shooting: 1d8 - 2 ⇒ (4) - 2 = 2
Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (1) - 2 = -1
Benny
Shooting: 1d8 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0
Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0
Benny #2
Shooting: 1d8 - 2 ⇒ (6) - 2 = 4 Better
Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (3) - 2 = 1
Borax Bohan |
Borax seems almost reluctant to leave, but follows orders nonetheless and boards the chopper. Finding a spot to aim, Borax concentrates his fire on the floaters.
Shooting: 1d10 - 2 ⇒ (7) - 2 = 51d6 - 2 ⇒ (1) - 2 = -1
Gavril Vasilescu |
Gavril secures himself in the chopper, once more after making sure the others are in and doing one final sweep of the area before boarding. Once things get hairy in the skies, though, he moves to an opening as best he can and opens up with the Minimi, aiming for any clusters of Floaters.
Shooting: 1d8 - 2 ⇒ (1) - 2 = -1 Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0 Benny
Shooting: 1d8 - 2 ⇒ (1) - 2 = -1 Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (4) - 2 = 2 Time for the last one.
Shooting: 1d8 - 2 ⇒ (6) - 2 = 4 Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (4) - 2 = 2
Jackalyn Chase |
Banked Raise.
Jackalyn slides into the chopper, flinging a grey corpse off her bayonet at one of the thin men pursuing her, before smoothly aiming down her sights at shooting at the massive robot. As the missiles damage its outer hull, she aims towards one of the glowing red eye... thingies.
Would Jackalyn get a bonus on this, since she's the only one who can penetrate the heavy armor currently? Wait, does it have heavy armor?
Shooting: 1d10 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0
Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0
Second-to-last Benny.
Shooting: 1d10 - 2 ⇒ (3) - 2 = 1
Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (5) - 2 = 3
Gorram Random Number God does not like Jackalyn, apparently. Only fair he starts sharing the love with my snipers, though. He's been focusing on Assault and Infantry lately.
So is this an endurance-test kind of thing? We have to weather through this until we get 30 total successes?
Jackalyn swears as an errant plasma bolt clips her in the shoulder, throwing off her aim and making her shot go wide.
Jacob Farrell |
Just to be sure, my huge-ass failure only means that I got no successes and I get to act this round or I'm in for a fun ride?
Jon, The Evil DM |
Jacob Farrell |
Jacob mounts the chopper with the rest, and once the machine has taken to flight the Irish prepares to fire.
He targets rhe stragglers and those separated from the rest, while swearing and yelling "Damned muclekd aliens! Get off of our planet!"
Shooting: 1d8 - 2 ⇒ (3) - 2 = 11d6 - 2 ⇒ (4) - 2 = 2
Jon, The Evil DM |
As the pilot makes his way out of the city, the Floaters fall behind in hot pursuit. The lieutenant takes a shot in the shoulder and nearly plummets out of the chopper, but pulls himself in and rests himself against the interior of the helicopter. Several of the squad fail to connect, but the others manage to take some of them down. Gavril takes down two in a flurry of gunfire, and Rosa and Borax manage to force two to fly into each other as they attempt to dodge. A few close blasts of plasma fly past the chopper, but none other than the one that connects with the lieutenant come close enough to cause injury.
At the end of Round 4, we have 17 Successes and 10 Raises; you only need a net total of three more successes to succeed. Also, none of you drew Complications this round.
Jacob Farrell |
Jacob sees Kristophe manning the mounted machine gun and smiles "Hahahaha! You look like a nordic Rambo!"
When the Lieutenant gets shot, the irish moves to cover him and fires a short burst.
Shooting: 1d8 - 2 ⇒ (3) - 2 = 11d6 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0
Okey guys, I count on you
Jackalyn Chase |
A veritable swarm of floaters rises from the streets below, screeching towards the helicopter with great speed. Jacqueline aims down the Barret's sights, and pulls the trigger, going for the central one's fuel tank...
Shooting: 1d10 - 2 ⇒ (8) - 2 = 6
Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0
...and hits it right on the money, causing a rather pleasing-to-the-eye chain reaction as the swarm explodes.
Gavril Vasilescu |
Gavril continues to keep the machine gun running, firing at the oncoming horde, but he isn't able to connect with much--and then the barrel overheats, and with a string of hissed curses, he grabs a spare from his bag and begins changing them out.
Shooting: 1d8 - 2 ⇒ (1) - 2 = -1
Wild: 1d6 - 2 ⇒ (5) - 2 = 3
Borax Bohan |
Borax seems to be enjoying himself, either he doesn't care about the incoming damage, or he's overly confident that everyone is going to make it. He then braces himself and keeps firing,
Shooting: 1d10 - 2 ⇒ (7) - 2 = 51d6 - 2 ⇒ (3) - 2 = 1
Jon, The Evil DM |
As the cloud of Floaters remain tight on your tail, a few of the squad manage to shoot several more of them down, and it seems for a moment you may be in the clear. A few shots slam into the outside of the chopper and it shakes in the air, but the pilot keeps the aircraft under control. As they swing around a partially collapsed building, Kristophe eliminates the last of the creatures as he unloads the mounted machine gun, blowing away the last couple of monsters following the group. "Hold on!" the pilot shouts, as he struggles to keep the chopper from crashing from the sustained damage. In the outer reaches of the city, he touches down as the lieutenant radios to one of the other transports. The chopper is heavily damaged to the point where you're surprised it's managed to stay in the air during the chase. Soon enough, another two transports manage to escort you out of the city, leaving the broken helicopter behind.
In the back of one of the trucks, riding away from the very city you just arrived in the day before, the lieutenant groans as he holds his wounded limb. Your pilot, for his part, looks back at Basra with a scowl on his face. "You lot did good," he says, absentmindedly. He looks to the lieutenant, giving him a knowing expression. "There are gonna be some people who'll have some... pointed questions about what happened here. Ain't that right, Winger?" The lieutenant straightens up, giving the pilot an inquisitive look, to which he responds with a nod. As the city fades into the distance even farther, you hear the sound of a squadron of bombers flying overhead; a few seconds later, you can see a series of bombs drop onto the city; almost immediately, a series of explosions rock your truck and the ground.
"A cover-up operation is already underway, as you can see... but there're people who'll want to talk to you about what happened here. I mean, what actually happened. Last I heard, the plan was to spin the whole thing as a group of terrorists who managed to get some experimental weapons tech." The pilot scoffs, clearly thinking the story isn't much to hold onto. "There's a sub-committee of the U.N., when we get back stateside, you'll be expected to meet with them. I have my own report to give, with the Captain dead... but that's another story."
You all just manage to succeed, with a total of 31 net successes!
Jackalyn Chase |
"I'm fairly certain we already met the men in black in Basra. They weren't too friendly. I can deal with whatever the government throws at me," Jackalyn says nonchalantly
Gavril Vasilescu |
"It wouldn't be the first time." Gavril sighs and finally sets down his equipment. "Military does things every day that, how do you say, 'suits' in the cities decide people shouldn't hear about. You use this word, 'suits,' yes?" Gavril looks to the more native English speakers before continuing. "So many missions like this, the public will not be allowed to know. Too dangerous, they think. Would shatter the illusion."
Jackalyn Chase |
Jackalyn's face briefly softens with worry. "I wonder if they're already in London..." She stares off into the distance.
Borax Bohan |
Borax remains quiet, but he has the look of a man who feels vindicated.
Jacob Farrell |
Jacob, who has been steadily grumpier during the attack and ride back, finally explodes in a string of blasphemies, swears and incomprehensible words, mostly in gaelic.
"First they take me from my cozy place in the desert, promising me fat stacks them filthy mucked liars! Then they tell me that something leveled a f+*%ing city, but no rusky was involved! Then motherf&!&ing aliens attack us! Aliens! I prefer them Interpol questioning me like they want! And now them Men in Black will want to fiddle with our brains to gain information! Next we know both them and the aliens will be peobbing our asses just for fun!" he keeps going and going until someone or himself manages to calm him down.
Jacob lights a cigar, inhales with vice and exhales slowly... "Look Lieutenant... I stopped wearing green long time ago, and it looks like you will soon. They will probably mark us as M.I.A., purge the uncooperative and enlist the rest to some wonky ass task force to deal with shit like this. Won't be military, that's sure but we will still be underpayed, overendangered and underequiped... I betcha I won't be able to talk you into "losing us" just here, so let me ask you a question: is there any booze around? I need something tasty to help me swallow this pile o' shit."
Jon, The Evil DM |
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"Farell, you've been watchin' too many movies," the lieutenant quips, before shaking his head. "I wouldn't worry about your home, Corporal Chase; this appears to be isolated, at least for now. Nor would I worry about any sort of business with being marked MIA, or "purging the uncooperative" or anything like that." He watches out of the back of the truck as the planes fly back around after carpet bombing the remains of Basra, a sick look on his face. After a moment, he pulls a flask from inside his jacket and takes a swig, before tossing it to Jacob with a moment of hesitation. "It's a nasty business, I know. I don't like the cover-up, nor do I like potentially bombing any living civilians, but the rescue effort is liable to kill more than it saves. Either way, you'll get your answers when we hit New York. You'll want your dress uniforms."
-----
The flight back from Basra is a silent one, with tensions high and the thoughts of your mysterious meeting weighing heavy on your minds. You're given three days time from when you land before you'll need to speak with a UN Representative. Whatever you do in those few days, you all find yourselves in the lobby of the UN Headquarters in New York City, before you're joined by two others; while it takes you a moment, you recognize the lieutenant and your helicopter pilot both in their finest uniforms. The lieutenant gives you a curt nod, but otherwise doesn't say much. Moments later, a group of men in black suits ask you to follow them, leading you through a set of double doors and into an elevator, before finally stopping at a group of rooms. "One of you to a room, please," one of the men says, with a kinder tone than you expected. "Someone will be with you shortly; if you need anything before they arrive, there's an intercom buzzer you can ring." With that, they wait for you all to enter your rooms before leaving.
At this point, you'll each meet with someone separately. You'll each have a spoiler with your name, please reply in kind. If you have any questions about something I've written, feel free to shoot me a PM.
As Borax settles into his chair, the room nicer than he might have expected. A few minutes after his arrival, another man dressed in the same black suit enters the room and buzzes the door, clearly locking it. He carries a thick set of manilla folders which he plops onto the desk, before extending a hand. "My name's Agent Morrison; you're.... Bohan, right? Petty Officer First Class, served in the Marines before you were drafted for the EXALT program... at least, that's what I got from your file." The other man sits down, smoothing his hair before leaning slightly across the table. "EXALT... how was your time with them? You certainly never found anything like what showed up in Basra. I'm sure you heard the NSA cut their funding a year or two ago."
"Senior Corporal?" a man asks as he steps through the door, a smile on his face. "You served with a friend of mine, Corporal Hamlin? He... didn't make it out of Daesh territory; I saw mention of your strike team in your file." The man pulls out the chair and sits in it casually, looking Gavril in the eyes. "I'm surprised someone like you was with the Peacekeeping Forces... I'd think after work like you did, you'd want to transfer somewhere where you didn't have such a risk of getting shot at. And they say the French all love to surrender, right?" After a bit of a chuckle at his own joke, the man gets a bit more serious. "Anyway, you know why you're here. Given your former activities, I'm sure you understand the need for a cover-up when it comes to Basra?"
As Jackalyn finally relaxes in the well-lit room, and short knock echoes from the doorway. A young woman enters, carrying some files as well as a bottle of water. "Lance Corporal Chase, correct?" The woman seats herself and takes a sip of her water, before opening the files. Jackalyn, even with her view upside-down, can see a sight that is still all too familiar; the bodies of twelve dead terrorists, each with a bullet hole through their chests. "You've got quite a story, you know that? Investigations for romantic entanglements with your superior, pardoned for war crimes, and you're highly decorated... I'm sure you thought the Peacekeepers would be a welcome de-escalation from the chaos you'd seen, huh?" The woman pauses, unsure if she has crossed a line, and takes another sip from her bottle. "This story won't be going quite so public, thankfully."
"Captain Farell," says a man as he walks through the doorway, a large stack of folders held beneath his arm. The man is tall and lean, and quite clearly British. "I was certainly surprised to find what I did in your file... a former IRA terrorist and freelance mercenary working in the Middle East, joining the UN Peacekeepers?" He combs through the files a few times, including pictures of several bombing sites supposedly linked to Jacob and his IRA cell, before coming across some of his work in the Middle East. "Tell me, what made you make that decision? Why, after everything you've done in your life, would you join a group like that? You were dishonorably discharged and basically left to rot... doesn't seem like something you'd want to go back to."
As Kristophe adjusts to the room, clearly nicer than one might have expected, he's treated to a woman walking into the room after knocking quite quickly. "Lieutenant... or would you prefer your native Norwegian? My name is Agent Ross, I'm here to talk about your recent experiences in Basra. You've got a quite a history... repeated incidents of drunken brawls and illegal fighting rings, alongside an exemplary service record." The woman sits a few files on the table but makes no move to open them, clearly already familiar with their contents. "Moreover, you've seen your fair share of operations that didn't get to the public eye. After all, it was hard to track down some of your records from the FSK... they'd very conveniently gone missing." After a moment, she leans forward across the table. "I assume you know why you're here?"
Rosa begins to feel agitated as she waits for someone to enter the room, but eventually a young man walks in with a small stack of folders. "Miss Vasquez? I apologize for the wait, but I couldn't locate your file; I'd assumed you were military. You must be the odd woman out, being from SWAT." He seems a friendly young man, and sits down across from Rosa before cracking open a water bottle he'd been holding under his arm. "That's certainly a change, from the streets of California to deployment in the Middle East... did you request that appointment, or were you assigned?"
Rosa Vasquez |
"Orders from higher up, am I right?" Rosa mutters dryly as the lieutenant decides to handle his problems like a responsible adult. She sighs and leans back against the wall of the chopper, staying mostly silent.
The next few days are mostly uneventful for her. Normally, a trip to New York City would be a luxury, but the upcoming meeting with a top secret UN council that hides, of all f*cking things, aliens, rather sours the mood. She absently adjusts her formal uniform every two minutes or so when they finally get to their meeting. The blue coat has several badges on the sleeve, and two well polished medals pinned to her chest. "I hate wearing this thing."
Jacob Farrell |
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Jacob, having never been in New York -or America for what it's worth- and knowing full well that, despite the Lieutenant's confidence, his theories about men in black, purging the uncooperative and various kinds of probing were right simply spends his time sightseeing.
Which for him means visiting bars, criticizing american whiskey and actually visiting a couple landmarks with his camera.
The day of the meeting, Jacob dresses up in his dress uniform and sits with the pilot and the Lieutenant. Giving them a warm handshake, the Irish shows them some of his photos from New York.
"Not a bad city, gotta say. Plenty of my kin 'round, that's good. But the whiskey... my father would have died again if he heard someone call that watered down piss whiskey."
The moment the suits appear, Jacob stands up but he does find a moment to snicker and tell the Lieutenant "Told ya there would be men in black, Lieut."
When the Irish enters the room, he is surprised by the man already being there. But after what the man says he feels all his years weighing him down. The Irish proceeds to the buzzer and quickly orders two pints of Guiness, one for each of the present, and then sits.
"Of all the UN lackeys, it had to be a Tan... well, I guess it's ironic and appropiate" he mutters to himself "Been a f+#+in' long time since anybody have remembered me of that. A really long time. As the IRA did couple years 'go, mind if we share the pint of friendship? I suppose you got a lot of information and facts in that pretty dossier of you, so if you are actually asking me you want the reasons above those. And that will last enough for us to savour some irish brew."
"First thing first, sir: I never killed nobody before November '01. I broke noses, I fixed things and I prepared demo packs... but I never dirty'd myself with killing. You aren't a milennial that thinks of the Irish Conflict as a footnote of Europe long history of idiots bashing his heads... you sure know how it really was." continues the engineer with a sad look
"Are you christian? You probably had a nice christian education, your parents sure wanted you to be a good boy that went to heaven in the end. Since my pop and ma died the only religion I was taught was that of the Hate. I was force fed propaganda, shown photographs of what your people did to my kin... I did believe ours was a noble cause. And I wanted to help my people have better lifes."
"That's why I joined the IRA, but that's also what I left 'em when I married Eyre: I realised what they truly were... I wanted a better life for me and her, and I would have none of that with the IRA mucking around." Jacob continues speaking, but at the mention of Eyre the irish briefly bursts to tears before regaining his composture, anger and frustration overcoming him "They killed her. They killed my wife and son as a vengeance for leaving the "family". I payed them double for that." he extends his hand to point at one of the pictures: a bomb induced building collapse in Cork, two deaths and five injured. Every one of them was an IRA member.
"I still had some friends from College, they convinced me to join the Corps... put my talents to good work, maybe even save some lifes and save myself in the process. I just wanted to forget who I was through routine and pain, and the Military was as good for that as anything else."
"In the end it was the right choice... I liked it. Good people around, ol' style discipline. It was perfect... so perfect I forgot who I was before that time. I served my country with pride, I did what they told me to. And in the end every mission and medal meant jackshit. They booted me, 'dishonorably discharged' as you said. I had noone to go back for, nobody waiting me home... so I stayed and keep doing what I knew best."
"I've assisted in four different NATO missions and three UN actions in the Middle East. I have built or fixed over two hundreds machines in different villages there, and helped defuse six minefields that you, your yankee friends or the paramilitar groups you trained have left over the years. I cut every contact with the world outside those actions and tried to live alone and in peace." he says as he puts his hands together on the table and pulls his head closer.
"All of that you knew, but it all boils down to your damned question: Why did I join the Peacekeepers? 'Why, after everything you've done in your life, would you join a group like that?'" he imitates his interloper accent before resting in his chair again
"Because I've been in a f#ing war or another since I can remember, and I don't want others to pass through that. If a UN liaison comes with word that an unknown group has leveled a city to the ground with unknown technology I want to know the bloody unknowns. I am an old man tired of this shit, but I still am an Engineer and a Soldier... I always answer the call of duty."
Jackalyn Chase |
As soon as Jackalyn sees the pictures, the world seems to slow down around her. Flashes of the past begin bombarding her vision. A craggy desert dweller, hanging upside-down, pleading for his life while Jackalyn casually approaches with a knife. Anwen. Blood. Blood everywhere.
Chase takes a deep breath, and forces the past out of her mind. She says neutrally, "Those are only the officially released pictures, ma'am." She lets that implication hang. Although her voice is calm, the woman can clearly see that she's crossed a line bringing up Jackalyn's previous deployment.
In response to the question about the Peacekeepers, Jackalyn says, "Yes. I was hoping to do something a bit more... constructive with my life after that mission."
Jackalyn Chase |
Jackayln, for her part, decides to carouse with Jacob, taking some time to get to know him, and likewise criticizing American bars, but in a much more dry and less profane manner.
Kristophe Kristophson |
Ja. I speak English well enough. We can use it. Kristophe says, standing at near attention. I. I believe it is because what happened in Basra defies normal explanation sir. Kristophe pointedly ignores the implied questions about his service record or his prior transgressions. This man obviously knows much more about him and this puts Kris at a disadvantage.
Borax Bohan |
But then the man stiffens up and speaks with conviction,
"But now everything's changed. If you're looking to reform the group, I'm in. If you're forming a new group, I'm in. I've sacrificed too much to not get onboard. I'm already waist deep in this mess and I aim to see it through or die trying, and I'm not planing on dying any time soon."
Gavril Vasilescu |
Gavril spends the days before the UN meetings with Jacob and Jackalyn, assuming they're fine with his joining them. He also takes on the bars and the tourism, although a bit quieter than the other two. On his own, he engages in his usual routines of exercise, drills, and even some meditation for his nerves. He also quietly transfers almost all of his savings to his family's account, and double-checks with his lawyer that all his other affairs are in order--not expecting that he'll be executed or jailed or anything, but wanting to be prepared in case of anything unexpected.
On the day of the "hearings" Gavril arrives punctually, fairly at ease in the dress uniform that looks more than a little odd on the huge man. Several medals are pinned to his chest.
"Oui. I remember Corporal Hamlin well, he was a good soldier, a good man. He cared about our work and fought to the end. We gave him a good burial when we got the body back." If the other man makes any sign of discomfort at that notion, Gavril doesn't give it his own reaction. "But if you've read my files, you know I 'became French' by signing up to get shot at. And if you know about the work I did, and who I served with, you know my allegiance is to the Foreign Legion, my brothers, and all humanity, not just a country that gave me no rights until I was willing to die for them. I think the Peacekeeping makes perfect sense for me."
The big man pauses and shifts in his chair, hunching forward a little. "But the covering up... I do not know about 'need,' but I know why you want to do this, if you mean that. One government made me do things they didn't want to tell their people. Why shouldn't all the governments together want the same?" He gives the other man a blank look. "Sir."
Jon, The Evil DM |
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Jon, The Evil DM |
Rosa Vasquez |
She shakes herself. "Anyway, that's not what you're worried about right now. You want to know about the corpses. We had hostile contact with the things on several occasions. There were at least three unique varieties, some completely inhuman, some close enough to try to pretend they were survivors of the attack. I had no idea what I was dealing with, but I knew that we'd need to know what the f*ck we'd just found. I managed to bag up something that I think was a grunt and one of the infiltrators. Maybe dissecting them will show something important."
Jackalyn Chase |
Jackalyn nods. "Y-yes. I suppose I was hoping, when I got deployed back there, that I could... I don't know. Face my demons down and fight them." A small, wry smirk tugs at her mouth. "I honestly wasn't expecting literal monsters to come raining down from the sky."
"What I did was horrible. I'm no hero. But it was necessary. I keep telling myself that, anyways. I'm ready to make a difference. I want to stop killing people and start saving them."
Gavril Vasilescu |
Gavril glances at the folder, and catches some of the words, but doesn't comment on them directly when the man finishes his statement. He breathes deeply and then cocks his head to the side slightly. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" Assuming the agent ascents, Gavril sighs and leans back in his chair.
"That is bullsh*t, and you know it, and I know it, and we both know the other knows it. Sure, you hide it for now. Keep it hidden away from the people. But sooner or later, they know. Everything gets out. Do you not watch the news? Your country, mine. We all see it happen. Like your Roswell, New Mexico. I am from France, an ocean away. I hear of that place and the legends there. The people will find out. They always do."
He sighs again and folds his hands on the table, once more assuming his old posture--businesslike, formal, the soldier. "If you ask for my silence, I will give it. The people will be upset to find out, and more so when they know their government hid it from them. But I am a Senior Corporal, so I do my job. You won't get trouble from me."
Kristophe Kristophson |
Jacob Farrell |
Jacob smiles at the man's apparent confusion "I was worried you were going to understand me better than I do, pal. Look, maybe it wasn't a mission to Basra but I could have rejected then...or do the job and get paid afterall." the irish says as he finish his cigar.
"Anyway, sir, you asked if I am a sociopath that loves tech more than people... or if I am a kind soul that loves helping. I know ya didn't put it that way, but you and me ain't fools: this is a bizarre job interview, and yer questions boil down to that."
Jacob moves his chair closer and gestures asking for permission to go through the pictures, both of the IRA bombings and his mission and exploits.
Everybody have things tha'they tryna forget or else they drive you mad. Some o'them drink, others prefer hobbies, drugs or sex... I fiddle with tech. Love it. If tha hands are busy, the mind ain't going back to where it shouldn't...." the man goes silent for a moment as he stops on a picture of the car accident that took his wife n' son lives.
"But there are things that you can never forget, no matter how much you drink or fix. I help people to remember myself I'm not like 'em. To justify what I did and what happened... why I am alive and they don't. If I am on lended time, I at least can make the world a better place before I'm gone. That's how I fight my stronger demons, trying to be a better person."
The old irish sighs and returns the pictures to its place.
"Look. I guess you half suspected all this, else I wouldn't be here. Whatevah we found at Basra had not only the tech, but the will to make us feel real fear for the first time since Adolf decided to test how big his dong was. I want in, the opportunity of fiddling with potentially highly advanced alientech is the least. Cancelling whatever they were trying ta prove at Basra is where is at."
Borax Bohan |
Borax raises an eyebrow at the second question, "What is it that I should have done differently in Basra?"
Notice: 1d6 ⇒ 41d6 ⇒ 2
Does the -2 mean I roll with a -2 or that the raise happens on 6?
Jon, The Evil DM |
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It means a -2 to your roll.
"Captain Farrell, I'm sure you get where this is going. Basra will be covered up as the site of a terrorist attack, and whatever tech we can salvage won't ever see the light of day again. We need to know that you're comfortable with that, that you can deal with knowing what the public never can. You were involved by circumstance, but now you get to choose how deep you go."
"We don't understand our enemy, Lieutenant. I'm here to make sure you and your compatriots aren't planning on taking this story public, but I'm also here to learn all I can from those who were on the ground. I know most of the details from the initial report, but I was wondering if there was anything in particular that stuck out to you."
"Regardless, Miss Vasquez, I'm here to ask you two things. First, we need any information you can give us that you feel might not have been mentioned in the initial report. Second, we're hoping to secure your cooperation; this story can't be allowed to reach the public, and individuals such as yourself are the only ones that could do so." The man leaves the last half of his statement hanging, clearly implying more than he's said.
Rosa Vasquez |
"There was one thing. And it might have some link to their odd brain structure. You said they seem to have exoskeletons, complex nervous system... This is going to sound crazy, but since I seem to have become a character in a bad b-movie, I'm willing to believe anything. There was one fight where they sort of seemed... different. Their eyes were glowing and they started fighting more efficiently, working together better. Is it possible that they're some sort of hive mind? You did say that they resemble insects..."
She scoffs. "Right. So you have a department of the UN that's prepared to start cover-ups by the time we get out of the combat zone, but you expect me to believe that you don't have enough media control to discredit any of us if we decided not to play along? Pull the other one."
Jackalyn Chase |
Jackalyn inhales. Then exhales. She appears to ponder something for a moment. "Every life is worth something. I won't work for somebody who is willing to so casually discard people's lives. Normally, anyway." She takes another deep breath. "But today? Now? I can't refuse to fight simply on moral grounds, especially when the other side has the ability to simply level cities. Just like that."
Jacob Farrell |
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Jacob smiles and nods as the brit speaks "I'm glad for once a irish and a british can reach and agreement. I like going straight to the point." he jokes.
"Look, as far as I am concerned that WAS a terror attack. Man, I bet I'mnot the only one who shivers just by thinking of the what happened. Wether you blame it on jihadists, koreans or Canada is none of my concern, until we know more about them -specially how to kill them better- I don't think people should know. Heck, I was an "undercover operator" back in the day, I understand the importance of keeping a secret, even if it's spaceship invaders levels of secret."
"About the tech not surfacing, that's the correct decision. Their guns punched through ballistic armor as if it was silk, they could fly and even use visual camo to pose as people. If any corrupt government or paramilitar group gets their hands on that, it would change the basis of our world. My profesional opinion would be either to study it so we know how to counter it, and then destroy everything... or reverse engineer it and use it against them. And then destroy it. After they are gone, so should be their damned alien militar tech."
Jacob looks at his glass and then back to his interloper's eyes. "I know I extend myself a wee bit, been too much time without speaking english. Except when speaking english and under enemy fire. What I'm getting at is I'm in."
Borax Bohan |
Our mission was to rescue civilians. Even had we known what we were dealing with, I'd like to think someone would have had to do that. We also weren't prepared or equipped for alien containment or capture. Admittedly, my main focus was on recovering alien tech. So maybe I would have focused on that, but that wasn't our mission. We got our team out alive, rescued some civilians, rescued some soldiers, and brought back some samples. Given the chaos that we dropped into, I think we managed. We were just damn lucky our weapons were effective.
And truth be told, I'm not interested in leading this bunch. I think Kristophe did a fine job. But we got no chance in hell if Jacob is calling the shots."
Gavril Vasilescu |
Then Gavril folds his hands on the table and nods. "That sort of thing doesn't happen anymore, though, does it? Like I said: I'm a soldier. You have my silence. Sooner or later the people will know, but they won't hear it from me."
Jon, The Evil DM |
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"I'll ask again; do we have your cooperation?"
For those who conclude their interviews, it's only a few steps down the hall that they find a sort of waiting area. There are a few black couches along with some rather basic furniture, but it's certainly less stressful than the interrogation rooms. After a few minutes, all of you have filtered out into the waiting area other than Rosa, and the door to the room she entered remains closed (and presumably locked). Both Lieutenant Winger and your pilot are still being questioned, it seems, but you all are left alone outside to wait for the others.
Those of you who are finished, you can speak freely amongst yourselves. Rosa, we'll wrap your conversation up and then get you back with the group.