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September 15, 2056 - 1900 hours.

Almost a mile below the summit of Mount Aix in the Northern Cascades lies a concealed paramilitary base; carved out of the rock by quantum power, it is nearly undetectable by the naked eye. Soft white bulbs in ceiling niches light its smooth stone hallways and the floors of shock-absorbing tile hide a maze of wires. The heart of the base is the command center, a small roughly oval-shaped room with four centrally located monitor stations and several wall screens; narrow hallways branch out in all directions from this hub, to the barracks, armory and all other points of interest.

Sgt. Marena Colby sat scrolling down the 'Green Screen' in the command center, idly perusing personnel files while bopping along to Large Cardinals on her headset. She tapped the keyboard in time with the music, expertly twirling the trackball with the palm of her hand. A handful of faces, each one grimmer than the last, danced in rapid succession across the monitor before her - her eyes flicked from the digital faces to the t-port door and back. Colby shook her head in frustration as she sang along with lead vocalist Leith MacCormac.

"Gonna slam my head against the wall, bam bam!"

She slipped off the headset and sighed; this was it, the beginning of a new era for Hole 21 - no, Base X4. God, that was going to take some getting used to - new names, new faces, and a brand new, vaguely defined mission. Colby couldn't help but chuckle.

Anything for the Green and White, baby!

Colby had been with the Greens since just before the war, and even though she was just twenty-five, she looked at least five years older. Years of shooting and being shot at were taking their toll, but when she smiled she still seemed young and alive - too bad she didn't get to smile much. She was younger than most sergeants, and prettier, too, though almost every inch of her lean five feet was muscle, and she sported a few wicked scars on her right arm and the back of her head. But somehow she stopped just short of true butch; the curve of her hips and the bounce in her step just wouldn't let that happen.

But there was no time for moping - time to be productive! Colby got up, rubbed a hand through her spiky bleach-blonde hair, and sauntered down a short hallway into the break room. Pvt. David Mortimer was helping SFG Lynn Epstein finish dinner - the barbecued venison smelled fantastic. Mortimer was tossing a simple green salad by the sink, probably the most complicated food preparation he could handle; the wiry boy from Long Island found any excuse possible to hang around the beautiful young Scout. Epstein was pulling some sort of casserole out of the electric oven, and if at all possible, it smelled better than the deer; the willowy nova took a big whiff of the casserole, and looked about ready pass out from happy olfactory overload. Mortimer looked up from the salad and grinned.

Almost ready, Sarge! Grub fit for a king; or at least, y'know, the new head honchos.

He indicated the break table with a nod.

So whaddya think?

Colby's eyes practically popped out of her head; the long wooden picnic table looked about ready to collapse under the sheer volume of food Epstein had whipped up. Crusty bread, hearty rabbit stew, some green lumpy things that looked suspiciously like fresh vegetables. The Scout slid a tray piled high with venison ribs next to an honest-to-god watermelon, wiped her hands off on her apron, and beamed a truly breathtaking smile.

So, did I do good?

The sergeant could only shake her head in disbelief.

Lynn, this is incredible! Did you get all this stuff out of the garden? I mean - it's that a pie?

Epstein nodded.

Dutch apple. I figure we buy their love with food, they won't get us killed so much.

I like the way you think, Princess.

The nova shrugged, then waved over at the casserole cooling on the counter.

And if that doesn't work, there's always the Casserole of Death; no way they’ll walk away from that.

First Sgt. George Kelso wandered distractedly into the break room, his eyes never leaving the screen of his datapad; the stocky, bespectacled base administrator was soon followed by Privates LeBeau Chambers and Philip Daniels, both of whom wore faces like cartoon wolves at the smell of the feast. 'Bo' Chambers, his Green Gear cap worn backwards and shirt sleeves rolled up to flash his old Army bar-code tats, shook his hands in some sort of weird mating dance as he shimmied on over to the table, practically crowing with glee in his distinctive Alabama twang.

Woo-wee! We have died and gone to Green, Green Heaven, my friends! Will you lookie here at all this f@ckin' food! Are you with me, Danny Boy? Are you with me?

Daniels, built like the high school linebacker he used to be, smiled and shook his head as he tucked a tattered paperback into the hip pocket of his BDUs.

Yeah, I'm with you, Bo, but you're nuts if you think we're gonna get to eat a bite of this. We've got four novas coming, at least four, and they're all LTs or Cobras, dude - this stuff will be gone in, like, five seconds.

Kelso stopped his datapad scrutiny long enough to look up and take in the entirety of the 'welcome wagon'. He pursed his lips and peered over to Colby, who was snagging a beer out of the fridge.

I cannot believe you gutted a deer in the shower.

Colby just popped open her beer and grinned.

I mean, have you ever heard of Lyme disease? Deer ticks, hello!

Everyone else in the room chimed in a spontaneous chorus of "Yes, Mom!" then laughed. Kelso got a little pink around the edges, but otherwise ignored the comment. He looked at his watch and did a quick head count.

They'll be here any second - where's Doc and Jubersky?

Mortimer finished laying out the mix-and-match silverware and shrugged.

Doc said to save him some - he still can't shake that stomach flu. Jube's in the engine room, puttin' the finishing touches on our big surprise.

Suddenly a smooth synthetic voice hummed over the intercom.

Imminent t-port from Warpstation Bravo, arriving in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

Colby took another swig off her beer, and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

Here they come - guess I better go greet 'em.

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Jamie Jennings materialised in the transport room. No matter how many times he'd been through one of them, he could never get used to the feeling. The sudden flash of intense cold all over him always made him shudder involuntarily. His stomach always lurched during those trips, like he was being dropped from a great height. The techs told him that, as far as his body was concerned, he'd taken no more than a single step. Nevertheless, he felt it all the same.

He tweaked the black leather gloves he wore on each hand and straightened the lapels of his grey overcoat - all the better to disguise the shiver that might have been taken for weakness to anyone that might be watching.

He raised a hand to his beret, nudging it ever so slightly so that it was square on his head. He hated wearing the thing, thinking it made him look like a french peasant no matter how well turned out he was otherwise. Still, a good first impression needed to be made on his arrival.

He looked around the room, waiting to see who would be the first to greet him.

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Jean-Claud Renee, a massive average looking, but likable frenchman was standing behind the prissy guy in the teleporter.

"Mah, but what you are you doing standing in the way? I thoght you would have better manners then that!" he says in a french accent to the man at front in the grey jacket.

"There are wonderful women to meet...so please move out of my way..." And the other man does not, but is briskly bumped aside as Jean-Claud walks through him anyway.

He walks out of hte TPer and opens his arms wide. "Hello, hello. I see everyone is here to meet us. It is good to meet our new team mates..." he looks over and notices the food, "Especially at such a feast!"

He walks over ot the woman closest to the TPer (colby I assume) and bows in an extravigant way (which is remarkably fluid for such a musclear man) then takes her hand and lightly kisses it. "Why, hello. Mah name Is Jean-Claud Renee. People I dont like call me SGT. Renee. People who I respect can call me Jean-Claud. My friends can call me Frenchie. You however...can call me anything you like." He gives her a quick wink and before she can respond, he looks around. "I hope I can count on the rest of you to call me Frenchie...or at least Jean-Claud."

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He looked around the room, waiting to see who would be the first to greet him.

The door at the far end of the short t-port hall opened with a hiss; Sgt. Colby peered in nervously, then her eyes widened just a smidge, and she seemed to both relax and tense up at the same.

Sir, it's a honor! Ah, welcome to Hole 21-

She winced and slapped her forehead.

I mean, Base X4. Your base.

She pulled the door wide open, and took a step into the white tiled chamber; an amazing aroma of savory cooking wafted in with her. Suddenly, she looked down, and realized she was not in her proper uniform - she wore one of Epstein's gray sweaters, now hopelessly stretched out over her sturdy frame. At least she had on her BDU pants...

Colby flashed a self-concious smile, and indicated the room behind her with a toss of her head.

We've got food. Lots of food. We don't have visitors much, so instead of dressing up nice, we, ah, well, we baked, sir.

She stepped back into the command center.

If you'd like to follow me, sir?

She led him past the monitor stations and the wall screens, down the little hall into the break room; as soon as Jennings entered the room, Kelso called out,

Atten-tion!

All the assembled team members snapped to attention around the break table; most of them were a little sloppy looking, except for Epstein. Somehow the Scout had pulled it all together; you would never have know that not five minutes ago, she'd been toiling over a hot stove.

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The door at the far end of the short t-port hall opened with a hiss; Sgt. Colby peered in nervously, then her eyes widened just a smidge, and she seemed to both relax and tense up at the same.

Sir, it's a honor! Ah, welcome to Hole 21-

She winced and slapped her forehead.

Jennings smiled at Colby, hoping to relax her some.

The honour is mine, Sergeant. I've been wanting to meet the hero of Kettle Falls for a while now.

We've got food. Lots of food. We don't have visitors much, so instead of dressing up nice, we, ah, well, we baked, sir.

She stepped back into the command center.

If you'd like to follow me, sir?

He followed Colby down the corridor, glancing around at the place, taking in as much detail as he could - he wanted to be familiar with the layout of the place as quickly as he was able.

All the assembled team members snapped to attention around the break table; most of them were a little sloppy looking, except for Epstein. Somehow the Scout had pulled it all together; you would never have know that not five minutes ago, she'd been toiling over a hot stove.

He looked around the room, giving all those assembled a brief smile.

This all looks wonderful. I've gotta say I'm impressed.

He turned to Colby, nodding respectfully.

Hopefully the others won't be a moment, and then we can get down to eating.

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A monsterous sight steps through the warp & into 'X4'. A full 1.8 meters tall, even though his posture is naturally hunched, the figure is a mass of rippling muscles under dark green scaled reptilian skin. The figure's legs are animal-like, with a 'long foot' making it appear as if he was standing on his toes with his knees slightly bent, & end in two-toed claws (with a third claw at the back of the foot). Likelwise the powerful arms terminate in two-fingered (plus thumb) claws hands. A long reptilian tail helps the figure balance, & his whole appearance looks as if he was designed for speed & power - a true predator reminiscent of the age of dinosaurs. The figure's head is devoid of human hair, but sports a raised ridge that follows down his back & along his tail. Slits for a nose, & lack of outer ears, combine with a powerful jaw to further increase the figure's menace.

The reptile-man's clothing consists of fatigue trousers, ripped off at the knee, standard issue T-shirt & fatigure shirt, both with sleeves ripped off, & the usual array of equipment expected of a long-term combat soldier - including a 'Bulldog' carried across his shoulder. The name-tag on the monster's shirt reads 'Rex'. With a well-practiced motion the reptile-man, Rex, pulls a lighter from his pocket with his left hand (the right hand supporting the Bulldog), flips it open, & lights the cigar that juts from the corner of his jaws. He steps forward into the room, takes a long drag on the cigar, then puffs the smoke from his nostrels in a dragon-like display. Looking around his gruff, deep, voice growls out,

"Nice sh!t-hole ya' got here. I guess this is welcome home, meat." ::smokin

Swinging the massive gun from his shoulder Rex leans it up against the wall, then massages the shoulder that was supporting it,

"Damn those things are heavy!"

"I hope I can count on the rest of you to call me Frenchie...or at least Jean-Claud."

Walking up behind Jamie & Jean-Claud the reptile-man stomps into the room, giving all within his best & widest grin (which, to be honest, just makes it look like they're the meal he's interested in... ::nervous ). Slapping 'Frenchie' on the back (with considerable force) he says,

"Just what we need, a garlic-eating surrender-monkey or two." ::laugh

Stepping over to Epstein Rex flicks his forked tongue over his lips as he looks the beautious Scout up & down,

"Okay. First orders of the day - you'll be sleeping with me from now on. Give me a chance to earn a few Brownie points..." ::devil ::wink ::laugh

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Walking up behind Jamie & Jean-Claud the reptile-man stomps into the room, giving all within his best & widest grin (which, to be honest, just makes it look like they're the meal he's interested in...  ). Slapping 'Frenchie' on the back (with considerable force) he says,

"Just what we need, a garlic-eating surrender-monkey or two." 

He smiles. "Yes...I know my country has gone down hill from the days when Joan de Arc and Nepolian were leading...but still, I dont surrender."

"Okay. First orders of the day - you'll be sleeping with me from now on. Give me a chance to earn a few Brownie points..."   

"Now, now. Zat is not ze polite way to ask a lady out."

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Frenchie looks the monsterous man up and down. "Not quite a *french* gentleman...but you have potential to be quite ze Nova-esc gentle lizard. Im glad im not ze only Cobra here. I was almost afraid I would have gotten cought up with a bunch of light foots."

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"Not quite a *french* gentleman..."

Rex grins,

"Thank f'ck for that! I don't look good in ribbons & lace..."

"... but you have potential to be quite ze Nova-esc gentle lizard. Im glad im not ze only Cobra here. I was almost afraid I would have gotten cought up with a bunch of light foots."

Still smiling Rex replies,

"What makes you think I'm a Cobra?" ::halo

I suppose we may as well start eating, then...

The reptile-man again casts his eyes over the assembled group in a predatory way, then glances at the food-laden table,

"Oh right - you mean that food..." ::wink

Indicating the baseline troops he continues,

"... Save the 'emergency rations' for later, right." ::devil ::laugh

A clawed hand grabs the ribs from the table & pops them into Rex's massive jaws - the crunching of bones can be clearly heard. The reptile-man turns his attention back to Epstein as he chews, & his long tail starts to feel its way up the inside of the attractive scout's leg,

"So, Babe, how about it, eh?"

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The T-port flashes for a third time, and a fourth figure saunters out of it. The man is tall and very well-built, slightly taller even than the ferocious-looking reptile that preceded him. His hair is cut short, and apparently naturally blond - a true rarity in this day and age. He is wearing green camouflage pants, a black shirt, a crucifix, and a green knee-length coat. He carries a large tote bag effortlessly in one hand, and a Bulldog in the other arm - slightly less effortlessly, and restraining a mild grimace. His intense blue eyes sweep across the room as he puts down the weapon next to Rex's, making no pause on the ostentatious reptilian. Something seems vaguely off about him, but compared to Rex he is the pinnacle of humanity.

"Just what we need, a garlic-eating surrender-monkey or two."

The latest nova snickers slightly, and when he speaks, he does so with two voices, one in a major third from the other, adding a slightly eerie effect to his speech.

"Now, now - let's at least pretend to be able to all get along - for a while, at any rate."

He looks at the others.

"Hey everyone! Please call me Raphael."

As he nears the group, a few pins on his jacket can be visible. One is the symbol of the Cobras with the words "Snake eyes!" superimposed over it, several more advertise novox bands, another bears the symbol of the Teragen. A fifth proudly states, "Girl Power!", and a final one declares, "You nonconformists are all alike".

The others may have heard of Raphael in passing, if only enough to know that he is an unapologetic member of the Teragen and the One True Cult from the Core, and one of the few Cobras with the capacity to open warps in space-time.

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"Actually..." he says with a smirk. "I am no frog...it would be more accurate to call me a fine piece of french steel." He swiftly gains a metallic appearance as he turns into a large metal man!

"But that is beside the point...let us eat!" he shifts back and walks over to teh table grabbing something that looks good.

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OOC: Must...catch...up....with...posting!

Jennings smiled at Colby, hoping to relax her some.

The honour is mine, Sergeant. I've been wanting to meet the hero of Kettle Falls for a while now.

Oh, thank you, sir.

She grins sheepishly and reaches down to finger a small green-and-gold star pinned to the top of her pants.

It sure is a pretty little star, isn't it?

He looked around the room, giving all those assembled a brief smile.

This all looks wonderful. I've gotta say I'm impressed.

He turned to Colby, nodding respectfully.

Hopefully the others won't be a moment, and then we can get down to eating.

Colby gestures him to a seat.

He walks out of hte TPer and opens his arms wide. "Hello, hello. I see everyone is here to meet us. It is good to meet our new team mates..." he looks over and notices the food, "Especially at such a feast!"

He walks over ot the woman closest to the TPer (colby I assume) and bows in an extravigant way (which is remarkably fluid for such a musclear man) then takes her hand and lightly kisses it. "Why, hello. Mah name Is Jean-Claud Renee. People I dont like call me SGT. Renee. People who I respect can call me Jean-Claud. My friends can call me Frenchie. You however...can call me anything you like." He gives her a quick wink and before she can respond, he looks around. "I hope I can count on the rest of you to call me Frenchie...or at least Jean-Claud."

Colby colors a bit at the unexpected gallantry.

Um, thank you, Sergeant...uh, Jean-Claud! Welcome to X4.

The rest of the base personnel relax a bit and come over to shake his hand and introduce themselves. Pleasant banter begins, but is suddenly cut short-

A monsterous sight steps through the warp & into 'X4'. A full 1.8 meters tall, even though his posture is naturally hunched, the figure is a mass of rippling muscles under dark green scaled reptilian skin. The figure's legs are animal-like, with a 'long foot' making it appear as if he was standing on his toes with his knees slightly bent, & end in two-toed claws (with a third claw at the back of the foot). Likelwise the powerful arms terminate in two-fingered (plus thumb) claws hands. A long reptilian tail helps the figure balance, & his whole appearance looks as if he was designed for speed & power - a true predator reminiscent of the age of dinosaurs. The figure's head is devoid of human hair, but sports a raised ridge that follows down his back & along his tail. Slits for a nose, & lack of outer ears, combine with a powerful jaw to further increase the figure's menace.

The reptile-man's clothing consists of fatigue trousers, ripped off at the knee, standard issue T-shirt & fatigure shirt, both with sleeves ripped off, & the usual array of equipment expected of a long-term combat soldier - including a 'Bulldog' carried across his shoulder. The name-tag on the monster's shirt reads 'Rex'. With a well-practiced motion the reptile-man, Rex, pulls a lighter from his pocket with his left hand (the right hand supporting the Bulldog), flips it open, & lights the cigar that juts from the corner of his jaws. He steps forward into the room, takes a long drag on the cigar, then puffs the smoke from his nostrels in a dragon-like display. Looking around his gruff, deep, voice growls out,

"Nice sh!t-hole ya' got here. I guess this is welcome home, meat." 

Swinging the massive gun from his shoulder Rex leans it up against the wall, then massages the shoulder that was supporting it,

"Damn those things are heavy!"

Everyone in the base tries very hard not to stare - well, everyone but Chambers, who just nods and laughs.

Holy sh!t, you are one big mother-f@cker!

He salutes, and then holds out his hand.

Private Bo Chambers - pleasure ta meet you, Sarge.

Stepping over to Epstein Rex flicks his forked tongue over his lips as he looks the beautious Scout up & down,

"Okay. First orders of the day - you'll be sleeping with me from now on. Give me a chance to earn a few Brownie points..."

Epstein looks about ready to die - her eyes are wide, and she's pale as a ghost.

Chambers just shakes her head.

Aw, you don't want her yet, Sarge - she ain't graduated from 'slut school' yet. But in a few weeks-

He slaps his thigh for effect.

She'll be one sweeeeeet little ride!

Colby's eyes flash at Chambers' comments.

Chambers, you dumbsh!t, shut the hell up!

Chambers just shrugs, then winks at Rex, and makes some sort of obscene gesture that implies - well, some sort of sex thing.

No one appears to want to jump onto the whole pro/con Fench debate anytime soon.

He stands watching the Cobras, dumbfounded.

I suppose we may as well start eating, then...

The reptile-man again casts his eyes over the assembled group in a predatory way, then glances at the food-laden table,

"Oh right - you mean that food..." 

Indicating the baseline troops he continues,

"... Save the 'emergency rations' for later, right."

Rex's sense of humor doesn't go down too well (actually, Chambers finds it hysterical), and everyone sits down to a rather stiff meal.

A clawed hand grabs the ribs from the table & pops them into Rex's massive jaws - the crunching of bones can be clearly heard. The reptile-man turns his attention back to Epstein as he chews, & his long tail starts to feel its way up the inside of the attractive scout's leg,

"So, Babe, how about it, eh?"

Epstein sidles clear of Rex's tail, and brushes off her black jumpsuit. Through a truly masive effort, she almost regains her composure, and offers Rex a polite smile.

Probably not. I'm glad you like the ribs, though; I killed the deer myself.

Raphael's arrival offers a pleasant distraction from the increasingly awkward meal. 1st Sgt. Kelso moves over to greet him; he grips the Cobra's hand and pumps a little too vigorously.

Hello, sir - sergeant! Welcome to X4 - if there is anything I can do to make your time here more pleasant, let me know.

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Jamie eats copious amounts of food, fitting for a Nova-sized metabolism. He wields his cutlery with the ease of a surgeon. He looks over at Colby, who he's seated opposite.

I haven't heard much about your career since Kettle Falls. What have you been doing with yourself?

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Rex exchanges knowing looks with Chambers as the man reacts to his various comments, obviously enjoying himself immensely, & shakes the hand when it's offered.

Probably not. I'm glad you like the ribs, though; I killed the deer myself.

"Yeah," comments Rex, "it's good. I usually prefer my chow to move, if ya' know what I mean - but this is good too... Anyway, don't let the scales put ya' off doll - evolution says that we've all got a little reptile inside of us. I'm just offerin' you the oppertunity to have a big one inside of ya'..." ::devil ::wink

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"Hello, sir - sergeant! Welcome to X4 - if there is anything I can do to make your time here more pleasant, let me know."

Raphael shakes the offered hand.

"Thanks - I'm glad to be here."

"What a bunch we are: we've got lizards, frogs," he indicates Frenchie, "& now a f'ckin' Ninja Turtle!"

Raphael laughs, a sound no less pleasant in stereo.

"Actually..." he says with a smirk. "I am no frog...it would be more accurate to call me a fine piece of french steel." He swiftly gains a metallic appearance as he turns into a large metal man!

[How large?]

The blond nova has a seat next to Kelso, and says in French to Jean-Claude,

"Don't mind him - he's just worried about his legs!" ::wink

His accented French sounds slightly peculiar (even more so than his voice already does), and vaguely African, though only the native Frenchman notices it.

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[How large?]

((well...large compared to most hunks of metal you would find...he dosent actually grow, but he does weight more)

His accented French sounds slightly peculiar (even more so than his voice already does), and vaguely African, though only the native Frenchman notices it.

He is and he does.

"Zo..." he says to the newcomer. "Where do ju jail from, eh? I notice a slight accent to your french accent."

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Another warp gate forms, with a power signature not the same as the everyone else came through, and through it steps a man who appears to be a very ordinary looking baseline. He says,

"Hi there, this had better by X-4 or I'm in trouble. I'm Mike Roe".

Mike is wearing the insignia of a master scout, and that is the only thing that stands out about him. He is completely average and non-descript in appearence otherwise. His age could be anything between 25 and 50, his hair could be described as brown or black, his eyes are a generic brown or perhaps dark green, and his race could be white, hispanic, or possibily even black. However, it is clear that he is a baseline.

Mike looks around at everyone and the food and calls back through the gate,

"It's copasetic."

Mike's identical twin walks through the gate (he was out of sight before), and the gate closes. He says,

"Hi there. I'm Mike Roe".

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"Zo..." he says to the newcomer. "Where do ju jail from, eh? I notice a slight accent to your french accent."

"Oh, I worked in eastern Africa doing private security jobs for a long time; I picked up the local dialect of French and some Bantu dialects as well in passing."

"Hi there. I'm Mike Roe".

Raphael looks back up at the newcomers.

"Hey Mikes - welcome to the base."

He then turns back to the table and joins the eating contest, wolfing down spareribs like there's no tomorrow.

Eat now - figure out the deal with the baseline clones later on.

He turns to Epstein.

"Hey, these ribs are good!"

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The more recent Mike says, "Now that looks like good food...".

He nods to the attractive scout, "...and good company. But we really shouldn't double up so..."

The second Mike touches the first on the way to the table, and the first Mike vanishes. Mike pulls up a chair, sits down, and helps himself.

"Oh, and you can call me Mike, or I'll answer to Kaboom as well."

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Raphael shakes the offered hand.

"Thanks - I'm glad to be here."

Kelso looks pleased to be acknowledged, darting a slightly superior look over towards Colby.

Jamie eats copious amounts of food, fitting for a Nova-sized metabolism. He wields his cutlery with the ease of a surgeon. He looks over at Colby, who he's seated opposite.

I haven't heard much about your career since Kettle Falls. What have you been doing with yourself?

Colby winces as she swollows her beer.

After General Chimera herself pinned the African Star on me, I was transfered away from my unit - still a little pissed about that, actually. Not to knock the good folks her in the 8th, but I bled with my brothers and sisters in the 1st; I cradled my CO's head in my arms as he died and his blood ran into my wounds.

She stops to wipe her eyes; when she continues her voice is hot with old rage.

So what do they do? They decided that those of us who showed such 'uncommon valor' at the Falls should 'spread that fighting spirit throughout the Greens', which is a load of bullsh!t. They wanted to seperate us.

After a moment, she cools down a bit, and smiles bravely.

So I received my promotion and got transfered here, to Hole 21, as this old rat-trap used to be called. Bravo Company has been good to me; I couldn't ask for better men and women to lead.

She raises her beer in salute.

To Old 21!

The others rousingly join her, but she adds a quiet addendum.

And to all the Raiders, living and dead, who bled for that stupid bridge.

There are respectful murmurs of agreement.

"Yeah," comments Rex, "it's good. I usually prefer my chow to move, if ya' know what I mean - but this is good too... Anyway, don't let the scales put ya' off doll - evolution says that we've all got a little reptile inside of us. I'm just offerin' you the oppertunity to have a big one inside of ya'..."

Epstein snorts some of her beer up her nose in a most unladylike fashion.

Pf-wah! Hah! No, I don't think that's going to happen, sergeant - they'd take away my little Scout card if did that, and who'd do all my laundry then? Plus I'm just an FG - aren't we supposed to be beneath your notice?

Pvt Chambers leans over to Rex.

You know what 'FG' stands for, Sarge? 'Fraid a Guns.'

He winks and nods towards the Cobra.

She can't handle the heat your packin', I'd wager.

Epstein nails him with a biscuit.

Another warp gate forms, with a power signature not the same as the everyone else came through, and through it steps a man who appears to be a very ordinary looking baseline. He says,

"Hi there, this had better by X-4 or I'm in trouble. I'm Mike Roe".

Mike is wearing the insignia of a master scout, and that is the only thing that stands out about him. He is completely average and non-descript in appearence otherwise. His age could be anything between 25 and 50, his hair could be described as brown or black, his eyes are a generic brown or perhaps dark green, and his race could be white, hispanic, or possibily even black. However, it is clear that he is a baseline.

Mike looks around at everyone and the food and calls back through the gate,

"It's copasetic."

Mike's identical twin walks through the gate (he was out of sight before), and the gate closes. He says,

"Hi there. I'm Mike Roe".

There is a ragged greeting, and a chair (or chars?) is/are offered. Pvt. Mortimer nods appreaciatively.

Rows and rows of Mike Roes.

Pvt Daniels looks slightly concerned.

So, uh, do like, all of you have to eat?

[Raphael] turns to Epstein.

"Hey, these ribs are good!"

Epstein beams proudly, and says in excellent high school French:

I'm glad you like them, sir - one of the benefits of my keen senses.

The more recent Mike says, "Now that looks like good food...".

He nods to the attractive scout, "...and good company.

Epstein sits up a little straighter and blushes, clearly appreciating all the attention.

But we really shouldn't double up so..."

The second Mike touches the first on the way to the table, and the first Mike vanishes. Mike pulls up a chair, sits down, and helps himself.

Pvt Daniels looks visibly relieved, and helps himself to more grub.

Colby looks up towards the doorway.

Damn! Need some help there, Jube?

Wobbling into the room comes a scrawny figure with an unevenly cut thatch of brown hair in an Engineer's gray coveralls, struggling with a large tray laden with pitchers and heavy glass steins that is clearly more than he can handle. Colby jumps up and comes to his aid, grabbing a few of the steins and placing them in front of the new arrivals. As the Engineer puts out the rest of the steins, it can be noted that there are several ugly scars crisscrossing his scalp. Colby stands at the head of the table.

Gentlemen, and longtime friends of Old 21, our former captain, the great Simon Blacknell, left many a legacy here. He will be remembered for learning, his knowledge of both Latin and Greek, and for his ability to disappear into his quarters for days on end.

This last bit gets a chuckle out of everyone but Kelso, who looks slightly miffed.

But his greatest legacy was his father's recipe for good English stout. Mr. Jubersky, if you please.

The Engineer procedes to fill the steins, carefully getting just the right amount of foam in each one. Colby raises her glass, and everybody stands.

I propose a toast - to the new masters of Old 21, now rechristened Base X4, and our new mission as the 4th Expeditionary Team. To Old 21 and to X-Ped 4!

There are cheers and 'here here's. Colby drains her glass in one go and belches prodigiously.

I hereby transfer my command. And so does Kelso.

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Pf-wah! Hah! No, I don't think that's going to happen, sergeant - they'd take away my little Scout card if did that, and who'd do all my laundry then? Plus I'm just an FG - aren't we supposed to be beneath your notice?

Pvt Chambers leans over to Rex.

You know what 'FG' stands for, Sarge? 'Fraid a Guns.'

He winks and nods towards the Cobra.

She can't handle the heat your packin', I'd wager.

Epstein nails him with a biscuit.

Rex laughs, as he digs in to the food (& he's a pretty messy eater) - sticking mostly to the meat ::laugh ,

"Hah! 'Tis true that some 'weapons' are more mighty than others - & the Rexter's packing some serious heat!" The comment is accompanied by a crude pelvic thrust. Looking at Epstein he adds, "Don't worry, Brownie, you'll warm up to me... or die trying..." the reptile man winks ::wink .

The Cobra vaguely acknowledges the newcomers as they arrive, then grabs & downs the stout as soon as it makes an appearance,

"Ah! Hits the spot!" ::chillbeer

His cravings for good food & good beer satisfied for the moment, Rex turns back to his other needs, glancing over towards Colby,

"So, sweetcheeks, how about you? Epstein here wimped out, so the position of 'bed buddy' is wide open - ya' wanna' get NOB'ed?" ::devil

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Colby winces as she swollows her beer.

After General Chimera herself pinned the African Star on me, I was transfered away from my unit - still a little pissed about that, actually. Not to knock the good folks her in the 8th, but I bled with my brothers and sisters in the 1st; I cradled my CO's head in my arms as he died and his blood ran into my wounds.

She stops to wipe her eyes; when she continues her voice is hot with old rage.

So what do they do? They decided that those of us who showed such 'uncommon valor' at the Falls should 'spread that fighting spirit throughout the Greens', which is a load of bullsh!t. They wanted to seperate us.

After a moment, she cools down a bit, and smiles bravely.

So I received my promotion and got transfered here, to Hole 21, as this old rat-trap used to be called. Bravo Company has been good to me; I couldn't ask for better men and women to lead.

She raises her beer in salute.

To Old 21!

The others rousingly join her, but she adds a quiet addendum.

And to all the Raiders, living and dead, who bled for that stupid bridge.

There are respectful murmurs of agreement.

He nods solemnly, his voice quiet.

To Old 21...

She can't handle the heat your packin', I'd wager.

Epstein nails him with a biscuit.

He chuckles some at the typical soldier banter. Being around death so much, it meant that most of the Cobra's he'd met left the term "highly sexed" in the shade. Not that he was adverse to it himself, but his counterparts seem to require much more than their fair share...

Another warp gate forms, with a power signature not the same as the everyone else came through, and through it steps a man who appears to be a very ordinary looking baseline. He says,

"Hi there, this had better by X-4 or I'm in trouble. I'm Mike Roe".

Mike is wearing the insignia of a master scout, and that is the only thing that stands out about him. He is completely average and non-descript in appearence otherwise. His age could be anything between 25 and 50, his hair could be described as brown or black, his eyes are a generic brown or perhaps dark green, and his race could be white, hispanic, or possibily even black. However, it is clear that he is a baseline.

Mike looks around at everyone and the food and calls back through the gate,

"It's copasetic."

Mike's identical twin walks through the gate (he was out of sight before), and the gate closes. He says,

"Hi there. I'm Mike Roe".

Jamie nods back to him. He's also in traditional Scout dress - pants, T-shirt, his overcoat slung over the back of his chair. The beret hung over the corner of his chair also lends credence to his Master Scout status.

Hey there.

I propose a toast - to the new masters of Old 21, now rechristened Base X4, and our new mission as the 4th Expeditionary Team. To Old 21 and to X-Ped 4!

There are cheers and 'here here's. Colby drains her glass in one go and belches prodigiously.

I hereby transfer my command. And so does Kelso.

He raised his glass appreciatively, joining in with the toast while glancing at Colby. She was really quite attractive now he got to thinking about it - maybe it was the bawdy Cobras that had set his mind on it. He pondered whether he should invite her back to his quarters so they could compare scars...

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His cravings for good food & good beer satisfied for the moment, Rex turns back to his other needs, glancing over towards Colby,

"So, sweetcheeks, how about you? Epstein here wimped out, so the position of 'bed buddy' is wide open - ya' wanna' get NOB'ed?"

Colby holds up her stein as soon as Jubersky refills it; she looks at Rex askance.

I dunno, do you think you can take me? I may be baseline, but I am so fine.

She takes a deep swig and then leans back, appraising the giant reptile.

Y'know off the record, I've had my share of 'meat' in my time - tell me, do you taste like chicken? ::sly

[Jaime] raised his glass appreciatively, joining in with the toast while glancing at Colby. She was really quite attractive now he got to thinking about it - maybe it was the bawdy Cobras that had set his mind on it. He pondered whether he should invite her back to his quarters so they could compare scars...

Sensing another's eyes upon her, Colby looks back towards the Master Scout.

Not to knock the wonderful world of Scouting. C'mere-

She motions him forward, and leans over conspiratorially.

When I was a little girl, I read 'The Lord of the Rings' - had me a biiiiiig crush on Strider.

She turns back to Rex.

It wasn't til later that I got into my Balrog fetish.

She laughs out loud and slams her stein back on to the table, slopping her stout all over the place.

Barkeep! Mizzer Jublersky! I shall have another!

Epstein stops her drinking (the stein looks quite huge in her dainty hands) and looks rather nervously over at the rowdy sergeant.

Ah, Reena? Do you think maybe you should slow down a little? You know, maybe think about passing out in a pool of your own vomit?

Pvt Chambers finds this particularly hilarious, and falls over backwards. This leads to more laughter around the table, until Kelso stands up, his face red.

What the hell do you think you're all doing? Don't you know there's a war going on? What if Major Kendall sends us orders? Whose gonna be able to work the 'Green Screen'?

Pvt Mortimer looks up from his vain attempt to pull Chambers off the floor.

I dunno, Mom - you?

This leads to more gales of laughter; Kelso yanks his datapad off the table, wipes some beer and soup off the screen, and storms out. Mortimer serenades his retreating back.

Kelllll-soooo, don't go-goooooo!

Sgt Colby seems to have regained a modicum of composure at the sight of Kelso's spat.

Hey guys, guys! I know we all love our mom verrrry much, but he does have a point - at the various least, we have to show our new friends where they can pass out. Daniels, how drunk are you?

The beefy private stands and salutes, remaining almost perfectly upright.

Not very, Sarge - I have a lot of body mass.

Colby nods sagely.

And we have your mom and dad to thank for that. Okay, you're in charge of the monitor station - let us all know if anything bad happens. Epstein, you're a nova of some kind or other, so you should be sober as a churchmouse - can you get me to my bunk?

She waves vaguely at the new arrivals.

And have the guys that wanna f@ck me line up to the right?

And with that, she dissolves into true incoherence. Epstein sighs, puts down her glass and stands - after a moment's concentration, another set of arms slides out of her jumpsuit, and she swells up to half again her normal size, hunching under the 8' ceiling. She shrugs her massive new shoulders.

A shifter's work is never done.

She picks up Colby and Chambers, who never made it back off the floor, and motions for the others. Mortimer looks like he can make it on his - nope, he's down, too, and Epstein scoops him up as well. Jubersky has slipped out quietly in all the commotion. The shifter Scout motions towards the doorway with her head.

If you gentlemen will please follow me, I'll get you settled into your quarters; after that, you can come back here and finish the beer and leftovers if you like.

OOC: Unless someone else has any nocturnal plans, Epstein will tuck them in for the night, and we'll resume with the following morning. PM me if you want to do anything heinous or sneaky ::devil

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"Hah! 'Tis true that some 'weapons' are more mighty than others - & the Rexter's packing some serious heat!"

Raphael looks up, amused.

"Really? I don't know much about it, but I thought reptiles were, uh... sluggish and cold blooded?"

The latter part is accompanied by a vague gesture to the crotch area and his smile splitting into a grin before he returns to his food.

She raises her beer in salute.

To Old 21!

The others rousingly join her, but she adds a quiet addendum.

And to all the Raiders, living and dead, who bled for that stupid bridge.

Raphael nods somberly in recognition of the day that was such a profound loss for so many.

"Old 21."

He drains his glass of stout appreciatively but brusquely, having personally never seen the point of beer for a Nova.

Epstein sits up a little straighter and blushes, clearly appreciating all the attention.

Raphael laughs.

"Hey Epstein, want me to start hitting on you too, or are you good?"

And with that, she dissolves into true incoherence. Epstein sighs, puts down her glass and stands - after a moment's concentration, another set of arms slides out of her jumpsuit, and she swells up to half again her normal size, hunching under the 8' ceiling. She shrugs her massive new shoulders.

"A shifter's work is never done."

Raphael, whose powers reputedly include the ability to double his size and weight, visibly brightens.

"Yes! Karma strikes again! What do you think, Balrog - the ol' artillery still up to snuff?' ::sly ::wink

Despite his somewhat reserved demeanor at first, Raphael is beginning to demonstrate a capacity for licentiousness worthy of a Cobra after all - though he doesn't seem to be as sex-driven as the others.

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Y'know off the record, I've had my share of 'meat' in my time - tell me, do you taste like chicken?

Rex grins again,

"Only way to find out is to wrap your pretty little tongue around me, babe..." ::devil

And have the guys that wanna f@ck me line up to the right?

Rex stands & salutes,

"Line forms behind me, gentlemen!" ::laugh

A shifter's work is never done.

Watching the scout's transformation Rex's long forked tongue flicks over his jaws,

"Oh momma - this just better & better! Can you do Halle Berry? Uh... from about 2004 that is..." ::biggrin

If you gentlemen will please follow me, I'll get you settled into your quarters; after that, you can come back here and finish the beer and leftovers if you like.

"Sure thing toots - I warn ya' though - I may need a lot of 'settling'..." ::devil

The Cobra heads off to stow his gear. If Colby isn't actually passed out, he'll quite happily visit her bunk for a night of passion (or, at the very least, bump 'n' grind) - but will take 'no' for an answer if she insists (or is totally out of it) - although he won't be happy about it... Otherwise he'll eat his fill, drink as much as is on offer, & crash out - keeping everyone else awake with his monstrous snoring echoing through the corridors.

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Raphael laughs.

"Hey Epstein, want me to start hitting on you too, or are you good?"

She laughs and raises her heavy stein.

I'm good for now, but we'll put you on the schedule for tomorrow.

Later, the now-mighty junior Scout smiles and shakes her head at any advances as she leads the men out of the break room, through the command center (where a bleary-eyed Daniels waves from his monitor post), and down a hallway to left towards the quarters. Colby is out - way out; in her Colby's small sleeping cubicle (a 10x10 room with a cot and desk), Epstein slips her into her cot and shakes her head.

Baselines - you just can't handle your liquor.

She pats her sergeant on the head, puts the privates into their cots in their cubes, and then shows the officers to their rooms (Rex will have to sort of crush into his bed, which at 6' X 3' is just way too tiny), which are further down the hall from everyone else's, plus bigger and with metal fold-down sinks and a flushing toilet.

Epstein shrinks back down to her original size and cheerfuly salutes them.

'Night, all - I'm off to read in bed. Alone.

She laughs and practically skips away. ::wub

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I'm good for now, but we'll put you on the schedule for tomorrow.

Raphael laughs cheerfully.

"Yesss!"

He gives Epstein an almost purely friendly grin - then winks.

'Night, all - I'm off to read in bed. Alone.

Following her back from his room as she turns back to leave, Raphael blows her a kiss, then turns his attention back to those remaining at the table, still beaming cheerfully. He grins at Jean-Claude.

"Merde..." ::wink

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Rather PO'd about not getting his oats, & the inadequete bed sizes, Rex first throws his bedding on the floor & props the bed itself up against a wall, to try to get some sleep, then goes & takes a long shower, then decides to head outside [how do they get outside in any case?] to have a look for the nearest enemy unit. If he can't f'ck then he'll have to make do with killing things instead... ::angry

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Rather PO'd about not getting his oats, & the inadequete bed sizes, Rex first throws his bedding on the floor & props the bed itself up against a wall, to try to get some sleep, then goes & takes a long shower, then decides to head outside [how do they get outside in any case?] to have a look for the nearest enemy unit. If he can't f'ck then he'll have to make do with killing things instead...

A quick search of the room reveals that there is no shower here; after trying to find his way around the small base (wandering into the base 'garden', for example, a hydroponic slice of heaven that provides food, fresh oxygen and a nice place to sit and listen to the cheap little fountain) for fifteen minutes, Pvt Daniels will notice his frustration and slip away from monitor duty (it's only for a second!) to show Rex where the shower is located.

It's a small one, just on the inside of the gym to the left, and the gym is reached from the break room by a door in the north wall. The gym by the way is small, 15' x 25', with a padded floor, some punching bags and battered Bowflex and Nordic Track equipment, none of it really Cobra-sized. The shower is a 5' x 5' chamber off to the left side of the gym, entered through a similarly sized dressing room behind a folding plastic screen. Thank God the shower is on a hose, or Rex would get a terrible crick in his back! It's also one of those 'shower massage' deals with the adjustable spray functions. There's a little laminated sign on the wall about conserving hot water, and how long it takes for the tanks to fill up once they're empty.

Seeing the sergeant's state, the drowsy Daniels smiles sympathetically when Rex gets out of the shower; he sets aside his paperback, it's cracked binding held together by yellowing Scotch tape, and stretches.

I feel your pain, Sarge. I know the base isn't super 'Cobra friendly' - Sergeant Stone used to b!tch about it all the time, too.

He shrugs.

Baseline designers, I guess.

If Rex asks about the nearest enemy positions, Daniels indicates his monitor station; he rapidly types some things into his keyboard, and the screen cycles through a few scenes (most of them displaying the eerie green glow of light amplification), finally settling on what looks like a quaint small town, except for all the humvees, 2 1/2 ton trucks and Stryker APCs parked there. Daniels also calls up USGS topographical maps and aerial survey shots as pop-up inserts.

That's Rimrock, the Army's forward observation post about thirty klicks southeast of here, as the crow flys; lots of trees, rough ground and a few mountains in between. Camera's from the Engineers, so it's real hard to find.

The beefy private points at a couple of features barely visible on the screen.

About a hundred and twenty men in the recon troop, sleeping in the houses and stores; whole town was evacuated. Fifteen Stryker APCs, three with mortars, the rest just .50 cals or grenade launchers. They've got a Fox APC with fairly good ADE for sniffing out you guys in all your quantum goodness, and the whole place is surrounded by enough KT mines to fill a baseball field, as we discovered when we did a little recon a few months back.

He shakes his head sadly and rubs his eyes.

Not too big of a f@ck up - only cost us half the frickin' platoon. F@cking Army.

Daniels takes a sip of coffee.

If you want to get some air, we got three tunnels to the surface if you're in the mood for a little hike; we use mountain bikes, but I doubt any of 'em would hold you.

He points roughly due west, and slightly south.

The 'A' tunnel, which starts just past Sergeant Colby's cube-

He grins.

Runs about 2 1/2 miles and comes out near the Copper Creek trailhead leading back to Goose Prairie, one of our towns and the home of New 21, where the rest of Bravo Company's now stationed.

He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, due south back towards the officers' quarters.

The 'B' tunnel is about the same length and starts just past all of your guys' rooms. It comes out near the Hindoo Creek trailhead that would get you to Rimrock after a lot of switchbacks.

He indicates the break room to the east with a nod.

The 'C' tunnel is a little longer, closer to three miles. Starts at the break room, comes out near Lookout Creek; basically, just an escape tunnel.

Finally, Daniels juts his strong chin due north towards a heavy door metal marked 'Observation Post'.

If you're not in the mood for walking, you can take the lift chair up to the OP, which has a fantastic view of Mount Rainier to the west. The ride's kind slow, 'cause it basically takes you up seven thousand feet, and even with the insulation it's cold as hell up there, but it's f@cking awesome, man!

He grins and winks.

Best place in the base to do a little quiet reading, Sarge - y'know, provided you dress real warm, or you bring someone up with you. ::sly

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I feel your pain, Sarge. I know the base isn't super 'Cobra friendly' - Sergeant Stone used to b!tch about it all the time, too.

He shrugs.

Baseline designers, I guess.

Rex nods, accepting Daniels' sympathy in the spirit it's offered,

"Guess there's never gonna' be much romantic about livin' in a hole - no matter what fancy code-name th' brass give th' thing." ::rolleyes

The Cobra listens to the Private's explanations of the tactical situation with perhaps more interest & attention than most would peg the big guy with based on his previous boistrous activities.

Best place in the base to do a little quiet reading, Sarge - y'know, provided you dress real warm, or you bring someone up with you.

Rex gives a dry, humourless, chuckle,

"Chance'd be a fine thing."

Looking back to the monitor screens the reptilian man's golden, vertical-pupil, eyes narrow,

"That Rimrock'd be a sweet target if it weren't for all those damn Kiss & Tells. It'd be just my sorta' party t' sneak in & trash the place whilst they were all sleepin'. I guess we could set off a couple o' mines & see who comes-a-runnin', but here's me without any projectable powers. I may be a crazy SOB, but I ain't about to go blow m'self up for no good reason."

Taking a few more moments to look over the screens, he asks Daniels,

"Any patrols or stragglers out there for me? Haven't been here a night & I'm already gettin' stir-crazy."

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Looking back to the monitor screens the reptilian man's golden, vertical-pupil, eyes narrow,

"That Rimrock'd be a sweet target if it weren't for all those damn Kiss & Tells. It'd be just my sorta' party t' sneak in & trash the place whilst they were all sleepin'. I guess we could set off a couple o' mines & see who comes-a-runnin', but here's me without any projectable powers. I may be a crazy SOB, but I ain't about to go blow m'self up for no good reason.'

Daniels nods.

Plus it's totally cheating; I mean, not to be a big baby or anything, but anyone can tie a bomb to a tree or whatever. And a lot of them have been 'sweetened' with MOX, which the UN totally outlawed, seeing as it doesn't have much actual effect on novas, but pretty much instantly kills any baselines. It's just f@cking nerve gas, man!

OOC: 'Sweetening' is the common practice of attaching MOX gas cannisters to a mine or other explosive device to 'sweeten the deal'.

Taking a few more moments to look over the screens, he asks Daniels,

"Any patrols or stragglers out there for me? Haven't been here a night & I'm already gettin' stir-crazy."

The private cycles through a few more screens.

Yeah, I know what you mean, Sarge. Uh, let's see here...no...no...no - wait! Nah, it's a frickin' owl - I hate owls. No...no...no..wait. Ah, here's some activity. Looks like a few Joes are feeling sassy, crossed the line out of the KT zone. Looks like their patroling Thunder Creek, about eight klicks from the end of 'B' tunnel, if you don't have to use trails and stuff.

He looks up to the Cobra.

You want me to request a warp, Sergeant? Late at night, you port over to Bravo, wake up a warper, bang! You're there in five minutes.

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You want me to request a warp, Sergeant? Late at night, you port over to Bravo, wake up a warper, bang! You're there in five minutes.

Rex shakes his head,

"Nah - I'm lookin' for a work-out: that'd just kinda' defeat th' point."

The reptile-man scratches his chin with his two-clawed hand,

"But I'll take some night optics if you've got any lyin' about."

Whether he gets the optics or not, Rex tosses his towel at the Private & heads towards 'B' tunnel,

"Chuck that in th' laundry would ya'? I'm off for a nekkid night run..."

Once in the tunnel the Cobra picks up the pace - until he's sprinting flat-out, his almost horizontal body balanced by his tail, the animal-like legs obviously built for running. [Activate Enhanced Movement for the scene]

Once outside Rex's scaled flesh shifts colours to blend in with the surrounding terrain, & he lopes off in the direction of the enemy patrol - swift & silent.

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"But I'll take some night optics if you've got any lyin' about."

Daniels rummages around under the monitor station, and hauls out an olive drab case; inside is a pair of rugged binoculars on a thick strap.

Here, take these, Sarge - low-light and GPS in the lower right hand corner. In fact-

He squints at the monitor, then procedes to enter numbers into a small keypad on top of the binocs.

I just put in their last known GPS coordinates. Proximity indicator will blink when you getting close to it.

The 'B' tunnel is smooth and featureless except for small dim red lights in the ceiling every 200 meters. It ends at a concealed trap door that comes out near the bank of Hindoo Creek. The trees here are tall pines, and the trailhead is clearly visible off to the right by the light of a quarter moon and starlight.

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Rex takes to opportunity to stretch the kinks out of his back, his spirits lifting a bit in the wide open spaces outside the 'hole'. He waits a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the starlight, then heads off - at a rapid pace - in the direction of the target patrol, blending in to his surroundings & bounding quietly across the mountain trails as if he was born to it. Occassionally he'll check his location on the GPS, & have a quick look for the enemy, but he aims to make good time before they get too far away from the spot where Daniels found them.

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