Any research or work in the station has screeched to a halt with Marco's body so thoroughly ripped to shreds. The recording that he left has made you believe that it's a good idea to lock the station down. Nobody will be able to get in or out until these... creatures are taken care of.
It's hard to push back that lingering question, though... what should happen to humanity if the creatures take care of you first?
Mike looks about the room, panic evident in his eyes. Oh my god, oh my god, what just happened?? he screams, I saw Marco, or what is left of him, that just aint right!!! I thought you guys were just digging up some ice, tell me, what did that, nothing in ice samples did that!!! Is this some secret government weapons base??? Are you guys working on some top secret virus that turns people into monsters??? I THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST DIGGING UP ICE!!! His mind racing, barely holding back the panic, Mike continues to look about the room. No, if it was a weapons lab there would be military, no military here, just the regular old guards. Could it have been polar bears??? he asks looking around at the scientists No, that was not a polar bear. Something is not right here, we are all gonna DIE!! Suddenly a loud smack is heard as Mike slaps himself hard. Pull it together Mike, panic is going to help no one. Pull it together and stop acting like an hysterical child. With that Mike quiets down and looks about at the scientist hoping one of them has an answer.
I let you guys know that nothing was supposed to be done without my Security Go Ahead. G&* d%@mit why doesn't anyone respect my authority around here. That's it! Nobody gets in or out of here until we figure out what happened to Marco. Seriously. This is disgusting!
Sven stumbles in with a glare at Dash. "All right, all right. I'm in. No pushing! Why are you locking the door? It's not like some neighborhood punkguin is going to wander in and steal your Magic deck." With a chuckle at his own joke, he shakes off his storm coat and brushes icy breath condensation from his handy (and warm) beard, pulling off his goggles and squinting around as his eyes adjust to the light.
"Man, it's cold enough to freeze a... oh God, what is that?" He stares at what's left of the unfortunate lab assistant. "Did you say... Marco?"
He inches near the remains and regards them with a look of nausea. "Are you... are you sure?"
With shaking hands Mike reaches for a cigarette, about to light it he hesitates, realizing what he is doing. "I know it is against the rules Mr. Dash sir, and I would hate to disrespect your authoritI, but really, are you going to fire me and send me home if I light this? I need a smoke to help me think here." He will wait until Dash gives a nod before lighting it however.
"Can it really be any of us? Do you think we could ask questions about stuff that happened before these creatures were released, and by knowing that we can figure out which of us are actually monsters? Something like, What was the meal served in the mess hall the first night we all got here?" He looks about the room hopefully, "You guys are smart, any way to test us with those fancy machines that go PING to find out which of us are still human?"
"Still human? Creatures? What are you babbling about, man? Somebody killed Marco, yeah. That's pretty obvious. And it was... messy, yeah. Like... like a large predator. But there aren't any large predators in Antarctica, so... Um. Nobody brought a puma here with them, did they? No, surely not. Dogs aren't even allowed here anymore..." The ornithologist trails off, looking puzzled.
Elora is brought in from where she was working in the kitchens, fresh white flour is apparent on her apron, and bits in her hair. "What's all this fuss about?" She asks before her eyes fall on the remains of Marco. [b]"Oh dear lord!" she exclaims quickly averting her eyes.
Hearing bits of Sven and Mike's conversation she grasps the mess's identity "That's Marco? How horrible... what could do that to a person?" She looks at Mike and Sven in horror "You don't mean to suggest one of us did this? We couldn't possibly..."
"I thought it was odd that there were no cameramen around," Alexander says boisterously, otherwise sounding strangely calm considering the gravity of their situation. "This must all be some huge prank, like one of those hidden camera shows. I bet that any second now, the real Marco will walk right through that door. Because this..." He gestures at the mutilated corpse, "...is clearly fake. See, look..."
The large man lightly dabs his finger in a splotch of blood, before touching it to the tip of his tongue. "Mm. Mm. No, that's real blood. Hm.
"Unseen assailant. Huge prank. Look, folks, there isn't anyone else here. Scientists, support, and "eco-tourists", that's it." Sven makes the quotes in the air. "If Marco is dead -and, y'know, it sure looks that way - one of us did it. There's nobody here to replace any of us, and it's too dangerous to get in and out of the station until the sun rises again. We're stuck here until fall with whoever did that" He points at the Marco shreds.
"We'd better figure out who that is, and quick. Marco didn't have an enemy in the world. None of us are safe."
"Leopard seals. They're the biggest predator in Antartica. They eat penguins, but have been known to attack people. Killed a photographer 15 years ago."
The janitor makes his presence known with that comforting observation. He slides his greasy bulk forward, and pushes long lank hair back from his forehead.
"But we're too far from the water, for them."
He cranes his head to get a view over someone's shoulder and whistles.
"He must have had at least one enemy."
"Everyone got aleast one enemy laddie, ya just got tae watch all corners for em, at all times!" The huge drunk Scot grins a little worriedly as he steps forward to stare down at the body. "Well I'll be f@%%ed... ain't seen somethin like that since I were back in Glasgow. Has tae be a beast... or a Glaswegian."
The mechanically minded Russ emerges from his bunk holding his head.
"Ugh, guys c'mon," he implores. "You know it's supposed to be my day off, and I had a lot of whiskey last night. My head—" he groans.
"You guys are making a racket, and—OHMYGOSHWHATHAPPENED?!"
Russ stares in disbelief at the mess that was Marco. After hearing that it is indeed Marco and he is indeed dead, Russ sits heavily onto some expensive and delicate equipment he probably shouldn't be sitting on and puts a hand to his head.
"Damn. Another black mark on the personnel file, I bet."
"That's just it, isn't it?" Alexander grunts, rather wishing he had a stiff drink in hand. Both to calm his nerves, and to wash out the taste of blood. "Doesn't matter whether he had any enemies. Someone wanted him dead. Probably didn't even care who he was; there was nothing personal about it. Could have just as easily been me or one of you that got ripped to shreds."
With shaking hands Mike reaches for a cigarette, about to light it he hesitates, realizing what he is doing. "I know it is against the rules Mr. Dash sir, and I would hate to disrespect your authoritI, but really, are you going to fire me and send me home if I light this? I need a smoke to help me think here."
The Duke offers the lady some wine, and he continues to smoke his cigar....
The huge drunk Scot grins a little worriedly...
"Ugh, guys c'mon," he implores. "You know it's supposed to be my day off, and I had a lot of whiskey last night. My head—"
wishing he had a stiff drink in hand.
Avistan enters the room with his nose buried deep in the research station employee manual.
"You know guys, I've been going over the employee regulations regarding smoking, alcohol, drug use and fornication and I've gotta say that its just all over the place. I just don't understand how a professional lab is supposed to remain credible with such loose policies."
He looks up
"WHOA! THAT'S A LOT OF BLOOD"
Robert turns to look at Avistan enter and begins to chuckle, before outright breaking in to laughter. "Aye we may end up as some mear o blood like Marco here, but Avistan will always be a booky lil spoilsport. Lighten up laddie. We may all be dead in the mornin!" he shoved the man playfully, before forcing a hip flask of whiskey in to his hand.
"Are we sure someone did not release some happy gas and we are not all experiencing some shared hallucination? Did I eat some bad oysters while watching Friday the 13th and am stuck in a nightmare?" Mike asks before taking a deep drag on his cigarette. "No, well that sucks."
He sits quietly smoking awhile before looking about the group, "I am thinking things are going to get ugly in here very shortly, things will get said and tempers will flair. It was a pleasure to work with all of you, and regardless how things turn out it has been a pleasure to know each and every one of you.
"Maybe it wasn't a monster. Maybe it was one of us. I'm going to see if that sawsall is still in the janitorial closet."
Lighten up laddie. We may all be dead in the mornin!"
Avistan turns pale and begins to panic
"The Employee Handbook doesn't have a procedure for this. we're all going to die here!"
Robert arched an eyebrow, and snorted when Mike spoke. "Bit quick tae say that laddie. Ya never know, it may not be so pleasant to have known some of... us!" He trails off with a cough.
As Tharp quotes the Employee Handbook again, the large Engineer scoffs before tearing it out of the mans hand and tossing it away. "Don't ya get it Avi lad? There ain't no rules for what is happening here. This is it. This is how it all goes in the end hey? There is summat here with us, summat tryin ta see us dead. Keep yer eyes sharp!"
At the Dukes words Robert throws his hands up in the air and sighs. "At last, one of yeh limp noodles are speakin sense! May they stay dead an haunt us nae more!" He grabs another hipflask from the long overcoat he wore, and sucked it dry in one long swallow.
The doctor meanders in at the rising commotion. He stands frozen for a moment at the sight of the body, then slowly walks around the carnage with the occasional "Mm hmm" or "I see, yes, yes" before turning and facing the assembled group with his hands clasped behind his back and a dour expression on his face. "It is clear to me, after examining the body, that this expedition should have sent you a real doctor. Sadly, my degree is honorary, a common thing for large donations to the university. As CDO of EvOil my role here was monitoring your exploration for reserves trapped under the ice. I'm afraid I'll be of little help in the triage department."
Clive waddles into the room with his quick and purposeful short paces, however he's so distracted by looking at his tablet that he slides on the blood.
Bashing into a table with a thud, he looks around the packed room; "What's going on? Isn't there a janitor around to clean up the mess and put out a sign. This is in violation of HSE Act2004, I've a good mind to complain - there could be an accident."
He looks at Marco's corpse and bounces up and down with the forthright agitation of a child being able to correct their parents. "See there has been! Poor Marco's dead! Isn't he doctor!
Jimmy bristles. He stops at the doorway and turns back. "It's blood. That's a biohazard. I can't clean it up without the authorization of a hazmat trained supervisor. Unless maybe you fill out an FR394 stroke 7."
"It's no good Duke. The incinerator is still out of commission after that unforgettable calamity at your last Wine and Cheese Mixer. Russ and I had it slated to be fixed this afternoon but the spare parts are still aboard The Titanic and we're on lockdown"
He nods along as Jimmy quotes the correct clauses for the 'disposal of blood in workplace accident'.
"You Clives' voice rises as this seems to be a greater affront than the dead body. Simply aghast the fromage-o-phile at the potential problems arising from that culinary mixture. He nearly starts hyperventilating and needs a sit-down.
Avistan sighs at the realization of his slip in front of Clive.
"No, it's a "mixer", you know, like a party. You don't literally mix wine and cheese together... It's, UNG...."
Avistan suddenly gets a stern tone in his voice
"Look, nobody told you because we knew this is how you'd react. I didn't even want to go myself on account of the fact that I feel like I'm the only person in this station who doesn't drink. I just wanted to make sure no more equipment got damaged."
He turns to everybody and flails his arms in the air
"GEEZE, this place might as well be a fraternity house. How many actual Scientists do we even have on staff anyway. I swear, Marco's murder is the MOST scientific thing that's happened here since we started this expedition.!"
"Just because I've been doing mostly engineering work doesn't mean I'm not a scientist," Sven objects, "The engineers wouldn't come down here to test their bloody designs and I'm the one who wants the thing built, so I volunteered to do it, right? But I'm still a scientist, and it's killing me to be this far away from the penguins. I'll take a look at him, but I'm an ornithologist, not a doctor!"
He looks at Marco's remains and deflates a bit, kneeling by the body to peer closely around the edges of damaged areas, where telltale signs remain. Mmmm-hmm. Huh. Hmmmm.... After a few moments of study, he rises to announce his conclusions. "Damage is consistent with, er, claws. And teeth. And... beaks. But not penguin beaks, I swear, they're not built that way. This damage is more characteristic of a psittacine beak - do you know they occasionally attack mammals? Anyway, there are marks of... suckers, I think. And might be some acid or perhaps activated enzyme damage here and here." He points out areas where the flesh has bubbled and blurred.
"As to what did this, it wasn't a leopard seal or a penguin. And it wasn't a human. Our natural weapons are rather rudimentary, and it wasn't our technological weapons. To be honest, unless he was ganged up on by a kraken, a velociraptor, and a giant fly, I don't know what killed Marco." He drops into a nearby chair. "It wasn't a penguin," Sven repeats defensively.
"If the incinerator is down, can we at least wrap poor Marco up in a tarp and put him in cold storage?" Mike asks before continuing, "Not to sound like a total wimp but I am tired of looking at him and it will start to smell."
"Not to totally geek out here, but a Kraken, Velociraptor and Giant Fly would have a combined CR of about" Mike pauses as he thinks for a moment, "18 or so would be my guess. We have an APL of lets be generous and say 7 or 8, most levels in expert." The color drains from Mikes face as he looks about the group before continuing "We need to think outside the box here people or we are looking at a TPK, and there aint no rolling up new characters this time!!!"
Robert put up his hand and grinned. "I ha a Masters in Particle Physics but I'm just here to fit instillations. Besides, Science ain't gonna save us now. Well... i mean actually it probably will but it just sounds cooler to say that, hey?
"No, you're right. Science isn't worth squat at this point," Alexander asserts with crossed arms. "This is officially a survival situation. It's a good thing you have me on board, because surviving is what I do best! As long as you all stick with me, you've got nothing to worry about. This place has got security cameras, right? Make sure you keep them rolling, 'cause I'm gonna need the footage afterwards. For, uh, reasons."
"Now everyone, don't panic, if I've learned anything from a long career in the oil industry, it's that complete incompetence and general stupidity are just minor roadblocks. Remember the Exxon Valdez disaster? See, half of you have blank faces and that company is still thriving. Sure, a few of us are going to die horribly, like Marco, but the rest of us are going to profit substantially from the sale of movie rights. Now, Cooper's plan is a good one, the ice seemed to keep this Thing frozen before we got here, so throw Marco's remains in cold storage and make room for a few others in there." Wilkens looks expectantly at the janitor.
Seemingly without provocation, the tape from Marco's recorded research begins to play, slightly damaged from whatever must have happened to him. He had a habit of leaving it on whenever it was on his person, in order to correct for his absentminded nature.
"Where have the specimens gone? Did one of my colleagues misplace them as a joke? No, no... I have the utmost respect for them. It could not be that, they are true professionals. I must take another look... I have found the remains of my cat, Meowselsworth. All that was left of him was blood and his little toes. I would recognize those toes anywhere... *ksssssht* What's this? Meowselsworth? You OW! OW OW OW! BAD! I've managed to get this... this impostor into a cage. Ugh, so much blood... I've never seen anything like it. It's as if the specimen has perfectly imitated him. This is troubling, what if my colleagues have been replaced? There were four specimens... What have I done? *ksssssht* I don't think I'm going to be able to get out of here. I need to get to the personnel files. I know one of them might be able to help me fight it. And there are three others who can test it... In the absence of time, without a genetic test, a... a CREATURE can be dispatched by burning its brain. Oh forgive me, my sweet kitty, if only I could have protected you... *ksssssht* You! Thank God you came, a geneticist like you will be able to help- wait, no, stop! STOP! *ksssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssht*"
The remains of the cat creature can be found, with tendrils that burst out of its eyes in an attempt to escape. Marco fried its brain using electricity, the battery and electrodes that he used are still there and live, and could be used on a much larger living subject... however, even a human would likely die after that much exposure to electricity. There's no good way to do this, and the clock may be running out...
Sven listens somberly to the tape, still barely able to believe what he hears and sees. "There were four samples. And one got the cat. And the other three are missing. So..." He looks around wildly at his companions and friends and teammates. "So three of you were contaminated with these samples and one - or more, I guess - did that?" He points at Marco's remains.
Dropping his head into his hands, he mumbles to himself, parts of his train of thought barely audible. "So... testing... before the plane... general population.. hell..."
Robert frowned, rounding on Sven and arching an eyebrow. "Whattya mean "three of you"? It very well could be you ya wee toerag!" He growled, walking over to the body and staring down at it, his face screwed up in concentration.
"Whoever did this is a bloody animal and we need ta find him, or her..."
"I said "three of you" because I know it's not me, obviously, not in some childish attempt to get out of work by saying "all of you need to divide up the chores." This isn't an exercise in political correctness: I didn't include me because I know I'm fine... for now. And if Marco's count was right, there are three of the "bloody animals" here, and we need to figure out who. But how?"
we need to figure out who. But how?
"How indeed?" Mike asks, "You say it is not you, I swear it is not me either!! Unless the three of you who are impostors stand up and declare yourselves, we must figure out a way to lure the monsters out." After speaking Mike sits in a corner, smoking and watching everyone suspiciously.
"Yeah like that's going to happen. Unless we use some bait. Got any bait, Mike?"
Jimmy shakes his head. His hair swings out of phase.
"Poor kitty. Poor little Meows."
Then he looks at the others. "I guess I can clean up the kitty. Creatures' blood isn't on the sanctioned biohazard list. But Marco's got to stay put until I'm authorized."
"Sorry Jimmy, I got nothin." Mike shakes his head, looks around the room for some sort of answer, and shrugs hopelessly. "I just don't know" he whispers to himself slumping deeper into the chair.
"Er...wait," Russ fumbles dumbfounded. "Does that mean...one of you guys...Marco...Li'l Meowsie...?"
All of this coupled with last night's booze is just too much for Russ. Some kind of funnel is sticking out of the expensive machinery he's on, and it becomes the container of convenience for...maybe it was pizza?
"Hmph. You heard what he said, right?" Alexander asks, arms still crossed. His eyes quickly dart from one person to the next. "One of those geneticists did him in."
His brow furrows, and his eyes narrow. His thick eyebrows begin to resemble caterpillars - angry caterpillars. "So which of you science flunkies did Marco in, huh?"
Mike looks up at Alexander's words, thinks for a moment before jumping up and moving quickly to one of the computers, "Your right, he did say it!! The personnel files will tell us exactly who the geneticists are, it has to be one of the three geneticists in the station." Mike mumbles to himself as he works furiously at the keyboard, "Damn security protocols, with this lock-down everything is shut down tight. If I can just slip in this backdoor."
Suddenly the screen goes blank and Mike throws his hands in the air, "Sorry guys, it is gone, I tried sneaking in a backdoor but the system caught me. Since the station is already on lock-down the server automatically kicked off a low level format when it noticed the intrusion." With a snarl Mike kicks the desk exclaiming, "Damn me for staring at Miss Scarlet and daydreaming those naughty dreams instead of paying attention in class!! I should have been able to get into them files!
All of this coupled with last night's booze is just too much for Russ. Some kind of funnel is sticking out of the expensive machinery he's on, and it becomes the container of convenience for...maybe it was pizza?
"Great, I guess I'll have to get around to fixing that too, you know, if I am privileged enough not to be reduced to some sort of paste by an unknown creature or MURDERED IN A SYSTEMATIC LYNCHING BY MY COLLEAGUES!!!"