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Found 5 results

  1. September 24, 2019 Karrie exited the New Headquarters Building and right into Brady’s arms. They kissed and Karrie leaned into him, so grateful to be able to touch him again. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair for a long moment. Karrie inhaled his scent, the familiar mix of citrus bodywash and shampoo, along with his spicy cologne. For the space of a few heartbeats, all was right with the world. “All right, that’s enough, Brady,” Anna said firmly after a moment, putting a hand on the man’s arm. “You’re blocking a mother from her child and that is a poor idea.” “Sorry,” Brady said, stepped back so that Anna and Fred could enfold their child in a hug. Karrie leaned against her parents, feeling safe once more, even if she knew that was a lie. “You’re coming to our house,” Anna said firmly once she and her husband let Karrie go, though Fred kept his arm around Karrie’s shoulders. Tugging her jacket straight in a nervous habit Karrie had identified at five years of age, she added, “Jack and Holly are bringing the kids and we’re having dinner. Brady, you’re invited of course.” “Thank you, ma’am,” he told her with a smile. “Stop it,” Anna said, smacking him on the arm. “Just for that, you’re riding with me.” Karrie opened her mouth to protest but her father’s arm over her shoulder tightened. She stopped what she was going to say and gave Brady a little head nod instead. “That’s what you get for not calling her Anna, as she’s asked,” Karrie told her fiance with a little smile. They kept up the light chatter all the way to the cars, where Anna loaded Brady into her sporty two-seater and buzzed away. Fred and Karrie got in the town car; in the front seat, Jordan, the driver, made sure they were settled, then raised the barrier between the seats. “So, how bad, really?” Fred asked, turning in his seat to look at her more directly. “It’s not good,” Karrie replied, falling back into analyst mode. “A lot of predictability just got removed from the world stage, because anyone can create change on the world stage, if they get these powers. Dad, the things I saw people doing in quarantine are world-altering.” “I got that from the reports,” Fred replies, muscles tightening in his jaw, “but I need to know what the country does next.” Karrie folded her hands and looked her father in the eye. “We prepare by recruiting powered individuals into a response force that can deal with problems that arise. And Dad, this is a global issue now.” Fred grimaced and Karrie persisted. “I know, I know. But not liking it doesn’t make it true. Someone who could teleport can deposit a dirty bomb in any populated center. We have flyers, super-strong people, water control, and lightning powers, shadow manipulation, and that’s just among us and Britain. We have no clue what other countries have.” “At least you got the ability to stop the use of powers,” Fred said. “I can’t think of a better, more responsible person to have it.” “I wish we had a lot more people with this ability,” Karrie said softly, glancing out the window. “I can’t be everywhere, and I can’t answer all the issues our country will face.” She turned to her father. “I need to talk to some people, and I need your help. We have a lot of work to do.”
  2. Time: September 21st through 27th, 2019 No one likes being locked up. No one likes being run through chemical showers and blood tests and poking and prodding of just about every kind a person could think. Psychological evaluations, "interviews" about what happened during the Storm, background checks and invasions into every aspect of your life. No one likes it, but at least some people understand the necessity. And at least some of the soldiers and officials and pathologists running the quarantine at whatever base you'd all be flown into in the desert were as nice as they could be about it. Some of them. The base itself had been split between the sealed off zones for the "guests" and the free-range areas for everyone else. At the start, there'd just been the large workroom that had been stuffed with cots and blankets for the dozen or so people being kept there, but on the morning of the second day actual semi-private rooms were announced as having been sealed off for people to use. They were paired off and told that rooms would be opened to them by the evening. Workers in HAZMAT suits brought in tables and board games and cards for the internees to keep themselves occupied while doctors tried to figure out if their weirdness was contagious or their if their minds were just falling apart more slowly than all of the people that had turned into monsters immediately. "This is the worst," Lucia complained. "Why can't we have phones or something? At least give us movies to watch!" The last was halfheartedly bemoaned at one of the soldiers guarding the communal bubble in the main room. He just shrugged, clearly not about to leave his post to go get a movie for the young woman. Her all-black eyes rolled, which couldn't be seen, and she slumped in her chair. She looked around the room, picking someone out to go say hi to and maybe make a friend - anything was better than another round of Solitaire.
  3. Late Afternoon, September 21, 2019 Steve, Karrie, and their nameless friend had been given a friendly but insistent escort to the barracks. SAS soldiers had kept the cordoned off from everyone else, much to Itty's loud annoyance. The local HPT team was already there and everyone was ushered through chemical showers, and radiations test, then split up into smaller sealed bubble rooms inside the base's gym. Doctors cycled through in HAZMAT suits taking blood samples and handing out bags with bright pink sets of PHE clothes in them. When they got to Steve, there was a snag in the procedure when needles bent rather than pierce Steve's skin. Pictures were taken. A lot of needles were broken. Some enterprising doctor finally just asked Steve if he could cut him with a scalpel. The soldier bemusedly watched the doctor strain to get the blade to pierce skin, though everyone in the room sighed in relief when a small line of blood finally welled up. They gave him a butterfly needle after that and came to check it every so often to make sure he hadn't healed it out or something equally weird. Several hours after sunrise, the other soldiers were cleared and released. Bubbles consolidated down until Steve, Karrie, and their still unnamed red-headed were together and alone. "We're running more tests and waiting for word from our main office," Terrance, the PHE lead told them matter-of-factly from the other side of the seal. "Once we hear, we'll know what to do next. Right now, there's for it but to wait. I suggest getting some sleep. Let us know if you need more blankets." That had been six hours ago. Afternoon light streamed into the gym from the windows. Lunch had come and gone and not been half enough even though it'd been a double portion for each of them. The red-head not only hadn't slept, she'd refused to even sit on the third bed. She was pacing now, looking anxious and... "I'm bored," she said with a sigh. She hung herself over Steve's shoulders. "Entertain me! Let's go fight another monster. Or play cards. Something."
  4. 3:48 AM Stevie One of the few nights in town, away from the grueling demands of SAS selection, and someone had to go ruin it. He'd been sleeping, for god's sake! Not that the men around him, the barracks building, or the storm outside cared at precisely this moment. The men, at least, were trying to help. But, what do you do for someone that keeps getting struck by lightning? Not like "several times over the course of a life" but "it's been a dozen times in the past thirty seconds and it's not stopping". Itty, so named because he was only five and a half feet tall in a group that averaged out nearly half a foot taller, grabbed his boots, put them on his hands, and shoved Stevie out of bed. He kept shoving him - through two more lightning strikes, go Itty - until the Colour Sergeant was out from under the ragged hole in the roof. Itty's face was peeling from the world's strangest sunburn and the lightning got in two more strikes before finally deciding that Stevie was well and rightly cooked and could be left alone. "Steve! Shit, someone get a defibrillator!" Men scrambled through the room and out into the halls of barracks. There was a first aid station down the hall, and Steve felt cold gel on his chest less than a minute later. That finally got his body to sync up with his mind again. "Dun...Don't do that!" He shoved Itty away from him, sparks flying between the two men and the live machine in Itty's hands. The room let out a collective gasp that immediately broke out into overlapping chatter - amazement, shouting at Steve, several prayers. One guy, a younger man that Steve was pretty sure wasn't going to make it through the full ten weeks, slid down the wall and just stared. Steve ached and every time the thunder rumbled he could feel it in his bones. He stood and stretched, rubbing sore spot on his bared chest. The thunder became regular, rhythmic, and out of sync with the ache in his boned. The barracks began to shudder with the louder rhythm; the men were looking at each other, frowning. "That feels almost like-" "Footsteps," Itty finished for the other soldier. They all poured out of the front doors of the barracks, alert and freaked out at the same time; Steve was given a larger berth in the sprint for outside. Hereford was back-lit by the angry black and purple-red clouds; lightning bursts chased through the storm, giving back as much light as the moon the clouds had blocked, but in random strobes of incandescent heat-light. Rising against that was an immense figure made of cracking ice; two blue orbs looked out from the enormous face as it reached out and put a gigantic fist through the third story of a hotel. People tumbled out, injured and terrified. A sound like glaciers cracking came from the giant - it was laughing. Karrie Busywork assignments annoyed the hell out of her. She understood that someone had to do them and that her supervisor often gave them to her when she'd be otherwise sitting at home just waiting for word that Brady was back and ok, but they still annoyed the hell out of her. She'd checked into the hotel in Hereford in the early morning, napped a few hours, and then headed to the hospital in her guise as one of the Minneford Foundation's more personable auditors. Dr. Vasilakis needed a reminder of who she was, which was exactly how it was supposed to go. Be unassuming. Be nice but not gregarious. That's how you can hold a cover for years without ever being suspected. Brady had been thrilled to get a chance to teach Karrie just a little of his side of the trade. "Jane Doe" was also exactly where she'd left her the last time she'd been in Hereford: laying on a hospital bed, a feeding tube down her throat, and a strict schedule of turning to keep her from getting bed sores. Karrie didn't know the details, but for some reason they weren't allowed to just move the woman to a more private - controlled - facility. It wasn't her job to ask. Getting "Laura's" paperwork from the hospital, so the bogus foundation would continue to pay the coma victim's bills, took up the rest of the afternoon and she busied herself with real paperwork through the evening. She'd made herself go to bed on UK time; she was going to be in Europe for a few weeks and best to get on schedule the first night. She woke up in the early morning frozen in place. Literally. Everything in her room had a sheen of hoarfrost on it and the whole building was shaking. She shivered and the ice on her shattered off, not melting but disappearing. She could hear screams from nearby, less than a handful of rooms down. The building shook again and again, like small earthquakes only a few seconds apart. A loud crash, the ripping of concrete, steel, and wood, reverberated from above her as part of her ceiling was ripped away by an enormous icy fist crashing through the space. She scrambled away as part of the bed and mini-fridge from two stories up crashed down into her space. The fist retreated and the screams got louder. Over it all she heard the icy, grating laughter of the monster that had just killed at least a dozen people. Kyria In the hazy darkness there had always been bits of sounds: a beep here, a low murmur of a voice there, the constant tinny sound of argument or racing cars or other random things. She'd never been able to focus on them and make them more than indistinct noise. She'd wanted to, but it was just so tiring. The screaming finally go her attention. It was so loud and so close and so there. She forced her eyes open for the first time in years, blinking against the dim light and the rush of fresh air over her skin. The room she was in was trashed. A hospital bed lay broken into several pieces below her; monitoring equipment had been thrashed about and littered the rest of the floor. In the doorway was a young orderly, her face frozen in fear and the screams emanating from her. Behind her, she could feel the winds from outside whipping at the broken section of the wall, cold to the point of bitter. She lighted down softly onto the floor, shivering from the open back of her hospital gown. She glanced at the other woman and said in a light, smooth voice that shouldn't have been possible from vocal chords unused for three years, "I'm cold. I need better clothes." The orderly swallowed, cutting off her own screams. "Th-there's street clothes..." She pointed shakily to one of the cabinets under the sink in the room. The red-haired woman nodded and stepped over, pulling out the set of clothes with delicate movements. The orderly blushed and turned away when she slid off the gown and dressed herself. Others were peering into the doorway now, shocked silent by the destruction of the room and the up-and-moving of their long-term patient. The storm outside flickered and flashed angrily, refusing to drop water just yet but in full thundered voice across the city. A strange regularity had entered the cacophony of the storm and it was getting louder. After she'd slipped on the pair of new tennis shoes and secured them in place, she glanced out the ruin of a wall and then back to the people still stuck in the doorway by a mix of fear, awe, and hind-brain gibbering. She quirked a smile at them and shrugged. "Guess I should go see what that is. Sorry about the-" she waved vaguely at the ruined equipment and wall. She stepped backwards out of the hole in the wall and fell upward.
  5. Timeframe The Events of this story take place one week after Underdark Disclaimer Due to events that will play out, it is a reminder to all that this is a work of fiction. Any similarities to RL are either coincidental or used as "dressing" for this thread. The Macguffins are entirely possible. As such I need to remind everyone that NO, I don't know how such a thing could be put into action and even if it did, I don't have the resources to pull it off anyways nor have the reason to if I did. This is a game that uses much of RL in it's timeline. A game where we play the guys that stop the bad guys (hopefully). Now that this is out of the way, let's have some fun. -TG Morning 0800 Hours 60 NM from Pearl Harbor Kei walked about the flight deck of the USS George Washington, observing the waves and watching the Naval Aircraft that were being set up for take-off after refueling. Most of them Naval aircraft still on deck that needed to be transferred to some other ship, and a couple were emergency landings due to failed mid-air refueling. She stayed on deck wearing her flight suit that has become one-part costume, and one part safety equipment, with her cormorant vest on, making her look like another pilot, but with the design of the Devilion, it looked like she should be flying something that Connor would be acting in. She adjusted the vest, and looked up. She was expecting Karrie to arrive soon with the F-35N that was requisitioned for her use on this. She also wasn't used to not having May, her operator, present for the mission, as she was away in Japan working with her counterparts on later joint-exchange programs. That and May was doing leg-work on this mission on the ground, since the subject of the coming briefing was in regards to a Japanese cargo ship being Hijacked and Pirated from. She paced near the island, waiting for Karrie's arrival. The odd mix of blue jump-suited DSA crews prepping for KArrie's arrival intermixed with Navy crews in their gear was a jarring sight. But, Kei wagered that this would be the only way she would have ever been able to experience Navy life on a carrier or have a chance to be an aviator in the Navy. After all someone as short as her would be disqualified from most duties, or perhaps even be passed up for enlistment. She stretched out, and stepped back to watch a F-18 that was refueled take off on the catapult, the last aircraft to leave before the deck was cleared. Then it comes in over a loud speaker. "Attention Deck, F-35N #5 on approach, prepare for inbound VTOL..." Kei looked up and flew to the top of the island, and watched Karrie arrive. She had faith that she knew how to operate a high-performance aircraft for a Vertical Take-Off and Landing.
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