SO 4-45's page

IMO opening dozens of hyperspace trap doors to the vacuum of space should have some effect on those in the room, namely those on the other side of the doors, facing the hail of grenades. I mean a hole into space spontaneously opening in front of someone like that can't not have any effect, can it??

Fireworks. Yes, that's what it was like. The hail of grenades launched towards their foe and the sudden appearance of Gemini's bomb disposal protocol droid resulted in an impressive display of pyrotechnics - too bad no one heeded the signs. Not that anything was posted and this did strike Jensens as being odd. Failure to display appropriate warnings in critical areas of a space station is a clear violation of code and the security officer has every intention of laying a grievance with the proper authorities, just as soon as he is no longer a wanted fugitive.
Reaching into his waistband, Jensens removes the 44 Magnum and cocks the hammer back. The long barrel glistens with sweat, but the rest of the gun and its fixed sights are clean. Jensens has no problem lining up the villain Borak and squeezing off a round.
Att. with the 20th Century's most powerful handgun - .44 Magnum vs. Borak: 1d6 - 1 + 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 + 1 = 6
Blow a man's head, clean off: 1d6 ⇒ 3

+1 on 4 shots, 3 shots remaining.

While the others are distracting Murphy, Jensens makes his move. Slipping over to the door he removes a thin plastic card attached to a rainbow of electrical wiring from his pocket. Plugging the wires into his comp pad he jimmys the card into the side of the door. A moment later Jensens' Pin Identification program opens on his comp pad screen and the security officer initiates the program. Common, baby! A series of number combinations blurr past on the screen and slows. Like a slot machine four digits pop up and soon Jensens begins tapping his sweaty fingers upon the illustrated number pad.
Disable Device: Slip into the security booth: 1d6 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3
Something good!: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Jensens emerges from the boys room looking a little pale and feeling just as bad. Holding his stomach he takes a breath of fresh air as the door closes behind him, I'd give that a few minutes to, you know. The security officer then makes a hasty exit in the direction of the hotel.
Stepping, or rather, staggering into the lobby Jensens sees the group conversing with the one called Murphy. Feeling the group has things well in hand, Jensens looks about, first to find the closest bathroom, and second for the hotel's security desk and the door leading to it's camera room - the goblin could have been lying just to get us out of there. Actual footage of Borak and the manager could be useful.
Perception check: Hotel Security office: 1d6 - 1 ⇒ (5) - 1 = 4
Doubling done: 1d6 ⇒ 4

With the goblin spilling intel on Borak, Jensens makes for the washroom, the puckering in his cheeks turning his walk into some sort of weird penguin shuffle.

A faint smile creeps across Jensens' face as Hazell plays along, Oh, this place'll be contaminated alright...

ADM says so: 1d6 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1 (There's no bluff here, SO 4-45 has a virus and it's playing with his bowels. Its up to the goblin where this is going to happen)

Typical. Jensens removes his credit stick from the slot, pockets it and sighs. Listen, I'm sorry about your undead guys. It was an accident. I'd offer to pay you back but unfortunately you're not interested in credits. Jensens pauses and furrows his brow in concentration. There's no manual for this kind of situation and even if there were he'd probably skip reading it thinking it a bad joke. Ha. Ha.
A sickening rumbling begins followed by some heavy breathing. Jensens' goes off script, I'd very much like to be on my way. But unfortunately for you, we have no where to go at the moment. The security officer's pants squeak and something horrible fills the air. Now, we can all just stand around here and let the inevitable take over, or you can send us on our way to this Borak guy. What do you say? A trail of snot hangs from Jensens' nose, playing with his shirt. Rather than wipe it away the security officer moves his hands to his belt, preparing to loosen it. There is a look in his eye, Ya, that's right. Right here. This sort of stain won't be coming out for a very, long, time.

Diplomacy: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Already pale from having violated section 16 of the Federation's Fire Arms Act, Jensens flicks on the safety and promptly holsters the 'laser'. The wave of intestinal nausea that rises forces the security officer over to the edge of the room to support himself amongst a row of slot machines. There is talk of money, talk of shooting and talk of doing things with things...Jensens has trouble keeping it all straight. His mind and all the trivial facts within it goes numb, This is it. This is the moment they told us about. I'm going to be the first to buy it, right here in this run down, shot up bar. Wiping his nose on his sleeve, the security officer pulls out his credit stick and inserts it into one of the machines. There's nothing to loose. A brilliant high resolution screen comes to life offering Jensens a few playing options. He selects the Mega Millions game and hits play. The machine deducts a few credits from his account and the numbers start whizzing by. The first row comes to a stop - Jackpot. The second row follows - Jackpot. Third - Jackpot. The fourth and fifth - Jackpot, Jackpot. As the shooting starts on the other side of the room, the slot machine blares "Winner! Winner! Winner! and Jensens' credit stick empties the machine.
[dice=Mega Millions jackpot!]1d6[/dice]
Hitting it rich Baby!: 1d6 ⇒ 6

Following behind, Jensens enters the goblin's establishment with his head down, still tinkering with the dial on his 'laser'. As the pair of skeleton's rise from the ground the security officer's head jerks up in surprise. Whoah! Is that what I think it is?! I've never... in his excitement Jensens points his standard issue laser at the two skeletons. Having adjusted the dial setting to disintegrate out of curiosity, According to Federation regulation 16-32, this setting was deemed illegal in over half of the federation! the security officer inadvertently fires on them. A rookie mistake. One should never casually carry an armed weapon, especially without the trigger safety engaged, and one should definitely never point at others with said weapon. It is a recipe for disastrous accidents.
Pew Pew: 1d6 ⇒ 6
[dice=Another one bites the dust!]1d6[/dice]

With the sound of tearing Velco, Jensens also reaches for his standard issue laser. No use wasting the world's most powerful handgun on a bunch of rent-a-cops. Taking aim his thumb scrolls across the dial settings thinking, Stun setting #12 should be strong enough for that armor. Squeezing the trigger Jensens' eyes pop - nothing happened! Of course! The 3rd generation Series Security Laser uses 12 as a fall back safety. Arrgh! Jensens scrambles to find cover before someone notices his red shirt.
Pew Pew: 1d6 ⇒ 1

Deciding the android can't be all that bad, Jensens follows it around the dock to the questionable alcove. Selecting a plain, standard issue looking Clint-class blaster pistol, the security officer examines the weapon; a long barreled black, six-shot, double-action revolver in the late 20th century style police issue handguns. Hmph, even has the wooden grip. At one time this was the most powerful handgun in the world, blowing heads clean off. However many users found they'd lose count of how many rounds they'd fired after about 3 or 4 and it was replaced by a more efficient Glock Tactical pistol. Considering the Magnum only ever held six, it is a mystery to Jensens how anyone could lose count. In order to avoid headaches, he'd decided man was much more primitive in those days. Jensens pays the droid but makes sure he gets a receipt. He'll fill out a R-T22i when he gets back to the Angel and await reimbursement in next month's pay check.
Too heavy to attach to his Velcro utility belt, Jensens double checks the safety and tucks the revolver into the back of his black pants, letting the tail of his red shirt conceal the grip. When everyone is ready, the security officer falls in behind the de facto captains and heads towards Thirsty's.

Knowledge check: .44 Magnum: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Jensens looks the oddly dressed manager up and down for any sign of a tiki torch. The security officer has a weird feeling about this android; the 120-A/2s are known to be twitchy and if this guy bleeds white Jensens wants to be ready.

What model is this guy?: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Jensens barely has time to wipe the ketchup from his cheek before the crew are on the move again. Picking up what remains of his Starburger(TM) and grabbing an extra one to go, Man these are good! the security officer double times it behind Zanbabe and Zackary. Unfortunately, Jensens' attempt to eat and double time turn catastrophic when his second Starburger(TM) falls apart in his hands before he gets his jaws around it. Condiments spill over his face and shirt creating a horrific mess.

Eating on the run: 1d6 ⇒ 2

Throwing the rifle to the side, Jensens falls in behind the rest of the crew. Everyone seems to be heading to the food court, Why's everyone heading there? Won't another security detail be heading this way? Shouldn't we be... Jensens stopped himself. He was over analyzing the situation and most manuals recommend not doing that. Besides, analysis was above his pay grade. His role was to follow their lead, offer suppressive fire in short controlled bursts and ensure the safety of the others. His red shirt in tatters, Jensens gets in line beside Zanbabe. Well not beside, beside. Nearby. Perhaps even behind her in line so as not to look conspicuous. But if he's behind her then that means he's in line and people will be expecting him to order something, then what? Starburgers (TM) were good. Perhaps he'll try and fit in.
I'll have what she's having: 1d6 ⇒ 6
Extra pickles: 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9 Total

Jensens stands up, Am still alive? Somehow I thought that was going to be a lot worse. Picking up his rifle the security officer takes aim at the lone guard trying to put cuffs on Lucian the Tripped. He squeezes the trigger to catastrophic effect as the pressurized canister containing the catalyst explodes ripping long tears into his red shirt.

Pewpew: 1d6 ⇒ 2 Sapphire!!!!

HP 2/3 but that could change since his weapon just exploded...or did it? GM?

Jensens hears the heavy clunk of a grenade tumble along the metal grating of the floor. Instinctively his training kicks in, lunging into the hallway in front of Zanbabe and Zakary the security officer does his job.
Soak: takes one for the team: 1d6 ⇒ 3

HP 2/3

Jensens readies his plasma rifle for another shot. Peeking his head around the corner he looks for a target and is almost bowled over by the HelpBots and their stain fighting protocols. Instead of finding a target, he is met with an eye full of concentrated cleaning fluid. Aaah! The detergent stings as it burns his eye. Swelling, his eye quickly turns red as it fights to produce tears. Half blind but still focused on the fight, the security officer points his weapon around the edge of the wall and fires randomly hoping the incoming beam of plasma will keep the guard's heads down long enough for the others to shoot them.
Pewpew: 1d6 ⇒ 2

Popping his head around the corner of the passage, Jensens makes a quick check of who's left. With most of the guards either stunned or incapacitated, Jensens holds up fire fingers and signals to the others.
Then just as quick, he continues his suppressing fire striking center chest of one of the guards on the right. A sly grin creases his square jaw and Jensens holds up four fingers.
There's one, set for stun!: 1d6 ⇒ 6

The hall swelling with personnel, Jensens' com badge picks up the transmission from a woman off ship. The voice is not familiar but the name she drops is. Lines of ship's regulation emerges from the shallow recesses of his memory, When the defense of the ship is in question, all available security personnel are required to ensure the safety and integrity of the ship. A conflicting passage gives Jensens a paradox, It is the duty of all security officers to locate and detain any unauthorized personnel found on or suspected of being on board the ship. Jensens shuts his eyes in frustration, Dam-it!
1-3 Defend the ship 4-6 located the stowaway Borak: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Deciding it is more important to defend the ship's personnel from imminent injure at the hands of Gemini's guards, Jensens heaves his plasma rifle and dials the settings to stun.

Round 4
Jensens slams the manual shut, Excellent! As he'd suspected, it was the distinct ridges on the exterior upper surface which differentiates the plasma from flame thrower. Collecting his weapons (Wish I'd remembered the baseball bat :( ) the security officer slings his plasma rifle and pockets a few grenades. Remembering the Field Operations Regulatory Equipment Service manual, or F.O.R.E.S. which clearly states on page 52 section 3 paragraph 12 that "only non fragmenting explosives should be used within the confines of a ship"... as ..."the consequences of a bulkhead rupture into the void of space could have catastrophic repercussions for personnel on both sides of the conflict," Jensens ensures he has only the smoke and flashbang varieties. His pockets bulging Jensens heads down the hall as the Angel docks.
Confirm Weapon selection: 1d6 ⇒ 4
(Do I have that right? We've managed to dock with Gemini?)
Round 5
Unfortunately, Able, Sampet and that older MK I have already initiated aggressive negotiations. Mustering up a bit of sarcasm, Jensens glowers, No one thought to call?! The security officer points to the red shirt and rolls his eyes - everyone knows the red shirts go in first, that's how the others live long enough to make it to the other side. With his back to the wall he removes a flash bang grenade from his left pocket. Jensens pops the pin with his thumb, pops his hands around the corner and tosses the grenade into the already smoking (Residue from Sampet's grenade?) corridor and the crowd of remaining Gemini guards gathered there. There is a brilliant flash and thunderous boom then Jensens readies his weapon and prepares to walk through the door and out of sight.
Fire in the hole!: 1d12 ⇒ 11 (There's been a lot of talk but not a lot of rolling of the old d12, Jensens like.)

Bothered by the irritating wine of fire alarms Jensens slams the manual down on the table, Freak'n alarms, how's anyone supposed to get any work done?! Striding over to the fire suppression panel Jensens inserts his security key and traces his finger down the column of lights, stopping at the blinking lights of the engineering section. Using one finger to reference the correct line code, Jensens types in the appropriate numerical code on the panel keypad to activate the ship's automatic fire suppression system for engineering. To his relief, the wining stops for the time being and he can return to 'work'.
Fire suppression: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Jensens arms himself with a few side arms and a plasma rifle - at least that's what the label pasted beside the rifle read. The rifle's configuration resembled a flamethrower however. The manual Jensens read for plasma rifles, Jensens always reads the manual first, indicated a vertical tank in the schematics. Trouble is, flamethrowers have a vertical tank as well. Jensens paused in the armory, both weapons require a gas catalyst to work but which is which. Cheap Acme junk. Being a thorough sort, Jensens sets the rifle down on a table and begins comparing it to the schematics in the manual.
Identify weapon: 1d6 ⇒ 2 Hmmm, 2. Looks like one of Sapphire's

Quietly standing guard in the brig, security officer 4-45, Jensens to his friends, sighed as he listened to the chaos unfolding throughout the ship. In case of emergency all security personnel are to remain at their posts unless called for. Jensens had all the regulations memorized.

He'd woken face down in the hall between his quarters and the brig. Thinking there had been an escape, Jensens had run to his post and completed a thorough inspection. All the cells were empty. Checking off the last two boxes of the brig manifest on his comp pad, Jensens signed off his daily report, "INSPECTION COMPLETE" and "NO INCIDENTS TO REPORT". The brig cells have stood empty ever since the Angel docked at Gemini a month ago, or so it seemed. The security officer glanced at the clock again eliciting long sigh. It had only been 30 seconds since the last time he'd checked. Time drags on when you're posted to an empty detention block.

Unlimited coffee was a nice change. Unfortunately, too much of a good thing isn't healthy and after his fifth cup Jensens' bladder was screaming for relief. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and waited for the latest call of nature to subside. The security officer looked one last time at the empty cells, ensuring the neural fields were active then declared, Fu** it. He'd had enough. With a look of determination upon his blue face Jensens left for the boys room. Five minutes later Jensens returned, the crease in his new black pants and security issue red shirt looking sharp as he turned into the armory. He'd made up his mind. He was going to abandon his post and report to the bridge, they could court martial him after all the dust had settled.
Will Jensens make it?: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Sorry for the long post, I tend to get into my characters.