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Voting closed: July 28, 2013, 09:40:58 pm

[Xanmyral]

Alec grumbles to himself slightly as he puts away his cigaret hastily, following Commander Satou into the building, taking in the new sights and people around him. He's rather thankful the hallways are large, always tiresome with heavy traffic buildings and small hallways. Reminds him of more than a few jobs where he was to specifically tear down a hallway so that it could be expanded because more people tried to use it all at once and got no where fast. Pulling away from his thoughts, Alec paid attention to following Commander Satou so as to prevent getting lost in the busy building, and when reaching the door pays it attention. Don't see a cast iron door every day. Or a cast iron image of a snake. Alec idly wonders if its some sort of theme metal.

Following Satou inside, he gives each person a quick look over before nodding in recognition to the group, putting a happy smile on his face. Finally, he can do something of worth with his talents of breaking things, or so he hopes, he thought. Alec couldn't help but feel a little excited and happy, but also a tad nervous and worried as well.

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (3), Lighter (full)
HP: 15
Stats
Int: 8
Str: 15
Agi: 7
Skills: Close Combat (3), Demolition (3)
Advantages: Determined
Disadvantages: Chain-Smoker, Stressed
Perks: Large Frame, Good Samaritan, Quiet
Quirks: Quiet, Good Samaritan, Large Frame
Bio: Alec grew up in a big city in the US. He was large by most standards, even as a kid, and its served him well enough. He's never been the most dexterous, indeed Alec considers himself a bit accident prone, it not being too uncommon for him to bump into things due to his large frame. He's never been the brightest either, didn't do too bad in school but did noticeably lag behind some of the other students. It wasn't that he couldn't apply what he learned, it was that it simply took him longer to learn something that came more naturally to others.

But, what he prides himself in is his strength. Being large, most people let him be as who would want to mess with that one kid about a foot or two taller than about everyone else? That was always fine with him, left him time to himself. Alec always appreciated his time alone, enjoyed it indeed. For when he was alone, all the pressures of the world just slipped away from him, he could relax without having to feel like he was constantly playing catch-up with everyone around him. He never really had to work hard to make his body strong, it always just seemed to be so. Knocks he's taken would often harm others, but to him it was just something he'd shrug off. Alec never found a reason to voice his pain, it was always something that was passing, something he often forgot about five minutes later anyway, so why give it a voice? He's gotten more than one weird look for stubbing his toe and taking it in silent stride with nothing more than a grimace.

But indeed, what he prided himself on the most however, was strength of spirit. While he may not of been the most brightest, he still tried his hardest to learn, while he may not of been the most dexterous, he still tried his hardest to watch his step as he could. From what he's seen, his strength has been a boon to him, one that he should use to help instead of hurt people. He's often used to giving it his all when he needs to, so he shies not from hard work.

Joining the Archangels wasn't that big of a leap for him. While he would of preferred to make instead of break, he understands that he has a certain talent with stuff and before he joined Archangel, he was a demolistionist. Not the kind that worked with bombs mind you, more the kind that worked with the machines, wielded a jack hammer or a sledge. People would often have things brought up that they didn't wish there anymore, so he was paid to bring it down. When the troubles began, and became a threat, he didn't panic but rather went to see what he could do to help as best he could. This led him to Archangel.

Far to your right, a deeper voice pipes in. "Ah saw your uniform and knew you must be a big guy. Nice to have another adult around, someone has to watch the rest of these kids..." said a skinny man, with short blond hair and blue eyes, as he gave a small wave. "I am David Atlas, rifleman." On the other side of the room, two people where playing a shooter against each other, with the volume surprisingly quite, lying prone on the floor. A young woman, with light red hair, sits up from her game cross-legged and greets you with a casual salute. "Hiya! I'm Helena Troy! Light assault!". As she got up, the other person on the game, a young man with dark hair and hazel eyes, took the opportunity to shoot Helena's avatar in the head before waving his greeting. "Im' Tommy Gump! Sniper, designated marksman, rifleman, shot gunner, and whatever else I need to be. Welcome to the squad!"

After everyone had greeted you, Otonashi had started to speak. "I am sorry to rush, but we have to be prepared. We may need to go on a mission soon." He spoke, as he walked to a small hallway in the back of the room. He walked about half way down, opened a door and walked in. A few seconds later, he comes out with a large uniform, much like the ones everyone else was wearing. On it's sleeve was a shield with wings, above your name. "Please put this on." he continued, handing it to you. "Your room is third door down, to the right. Please hurry." You take the uniform and head to the room he designated. It was a decent size, about the size of a normal collage dorm room, though the furniture is small for you. You change into the uniform. It fits comfortably, and is easy to move in, but still feels a little thick. You return to the main room as Otonashi had instructed, to be greeted once again by him.

"Good. Now we should provide him proper equipment." The commander said, as he inspects you, hands behind his back. In front of the television, Tommy jumped up, with a glimmer in his eyes as he looks at you. "Ah! Lets get you a gun buddy!" He says happily. "You look strong, so we can get you something that will cut the world in half. How about an MK19? You look like you could handle it! Sixty grenades a minute, up to a mile away! No...TWO MK19s! We can just tape one to each arm.... Or maybe we can get you a Shrike machine gun! No, two Shrikes with under barrel MK19s!" Tommy continues, rapid fire like a gun himself.

"Calm down." Otonashi said, commandingly. "He may be strong, but those weapons way over a hundred pounds. Even if he can use those efficiently, he is a novice with fire arms. Maybe he would prefer something easier?" "Ah fine" Tommy said, still as ecstatic as before, "Maybe an assault rifle then? We got a lot of choices. AKs, M16s, FNC...Maybe a shotgun? Benelli, Siaga, Leopard 12....No, a pistol! Baretta?..." The commander interrupts one more time. "Perhaps we should ask him what he wants, before you give him a headache?"

Is there any equipment you want to ask for?

[Xanmyral]

Alec gives each squad member a nod in turn as they introduced themselves to him. After a quick change, he rejoins the others and listens to Tommy rattle off a few technical names that prompts a blank look in Alec's face for the most part, at least until he understood he was talking about a grenade launcher of some kind. A minor look of relief crossed his face when the commander butted in with his comment, and then Tommy commenting with more weapon types, with some names he actually knew.

[I can't help but think of old Xcom PJ's when you mention the uniforms. I'm not sure why.]

Alec mulled over what he would of wanted. He wouldn't trust himself with any pin-point shooting, so any marksman or precision weapons were out of the question. He weighed the idea of a shotgun-type of weapon in his mind for a bit, and the idea did appeal to him for a bit. Its rather hard to miss when close up with a shotgun, hard to futz it up at least. But he acknowledges that he's rather slow on his feet, which would be something of importance to a med-short to short range weapon... [Next two sentences conditional on that he had his sledge with him/was in his room.] That, and having such would give little use to his lucky sledge. Its seen him through more than a single demo job, and he feels comforted just feelings its familiar weight.

Alec decides that the best for him would probably be a kind of squad support weapon. He's a large guy, so using a big gun isn't out of the question, although he's not sure if that's quite suited for a novice. Giving covering fire or suppressing fire can't be that hard however, can it? After a moment or two, Alec looks like he's come to a decision. "Light machine gun, or what is needed." While what he spoke was indeed a statement, the first part gives the sense that he was hazarding a guess. He couldn't help but feel the familiar situation of playing catch-up. Some things don't change, even in such strange times. It was oddly comforting.

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (3), Lighter (full), Ares Shrike, 200 5.56 rounds (Loaded).
HP: 15
Stats
Int: 8
Str: 15
Agi: 7
Skills: Close Combat (3), Demolition (3), Heavy weapons (1)
Advantages: Determined
Disadvantages: Chain-Smoker, Stressed
Perks: Large Frame, Good Samaritan, Quiet
Quirks: Quiet, Good Samaritan, Large Frame
Bio: Alec grew up in a big city in the US. He was large by most standards, even as a kid, and its served him well enough. He's never been the most dexterous, indeed Alec considers himself a bit accident prone, it not being too uncommon for him to bump into things due to his large frame. He's never been the brightest either, didn't do too bad in school but did noticeably lag behind some of the other students. It wasn't that he couldn't apply what he learned, it was that it simply took him longer to learn something that came more naturally to others.

But, what he prides himself in is his strength. Being large, most people let him be as who would want to mess with that one kid about a foot or two taller than about everyone else? That was always fine with him, left him time to himself. Alec always appreciated his time alone, enjoyed it indeed. For when he was alone, all the pressures of the world just slipped away from him, he could relax without having to feel like he was constantly playing catch-up with everyone around him. He never really had to work hard to make his body strong, it always just seemed to be so. Knocks he's taken would often harm others, but to him it was just something he'd shrug off. Alec never found a reason to voice his pain, it was always something that was passing, something he often forgot about five minutes later anyway, so why give it a voice? He's gotten more than one weird look for stubbing his toe and taking it in silent stride with nothing more than a grimace.

But indeed, what he prided himself on the most however, was strength of spirit. While he may not of been the most brightest, he still tried his hardest to learn, while he may not of been the most dexterous, he still tried his hardest to watch his step as he could. From what he's seen, his strength has been a boon to him, one that he should use to help instead of hurt people. He's often used to giving it his all when he needs to, so he shies not from hard work.

Joining the Archangels wasn't that big of a leap for him. While he would of preferred to make instead of break, he understands that he has a certain talent with stuff and before he joined Archangel, he was a demolistionist. Not the kind that worked with bombs mind you, more the kind that worked with the machines, wielded a jack hammer or a sledge. People would often have things brought up that they didn't wish there anymore, so he was paid to bring it down. When the troubles began, and became a threat, he didn't panic but rather went to see what he could do to help as best he could. This led him to Archangel.

Tommy claps his hands together happily. "Excellent! How about a Minimi? No....Pecheneg! How about a Browning!" He continues, only to be interrupted once again. "He is a man, not a truck Tommy. How about suggesting something he can walk with?" "Ah right. Maybe he can use those when he gets better.... He should be able to use and Ares Shrike!" He says, snapping his fingers as he gets it. "Ah, an assault machine gun. A normal guy can pick it up and use it, I think you should have no trouble, even if you have never fired before." He then rushes down the small hallway, turning into a room at the end. A few seconds later he comes out with a large gun, with a box in front of the trigger. He hands it to you. It is heavier then you expected, about eight pounds. Tommy then comes out with a pouch of ammunition with the work "Shrike" written on it, as he fills the box with belts of ammunition, as you hold it. It gets a bit heavier, but you can probably still use it fine. "Ah, light and fast. Perfect for you!" He says, proudly, as he returns the video game. "If you need help using it, Ill take you down to the range later!" He continues, as he walks to the game.

The commander looks at you. "I hope that will be sufficient for now. If there is anything else you need, just ask. We are now active, and can be called in at any moment, so please stay in range of the main room, but other then that you can do whatever you want until we are called. If you have any questions, feel free to ask." he says, turning to you with his hand behind his back, as always.

Anything you want to do before your first mission?

[Xanmyral]

Alec gave Tom an amused look at his comment about getting better. Doubtful that even the strongest of men could use something like a Browning on foot. Not without hurting anything but themselves, that is. He looked the gun over in his hands when he was handed and loaded for him, peeking and prying at the various parts. First making sure the safety is on and any fingers away from the trigger however, he may not of been around guns much but he knows that much at least. He hefted it a bit, getting used to the weight. He's carried heavier loads before, so he wasn't to worried about it weight wise. Alec wouldn't of opted to use sledges in his demo work if he wasn't okay with hefting heavy things, although this is a bit heavier than a normal sledge, not counting the real heavy duty stuff.

Alec nods, agreeing with Tom before he went away, practice is always needed so he will definitely take him up on that. Listening to the commander, he once again nods, although this time in understanding. As for a question, he simply looks questioningly towards the two playing video games, before looking back at the commander. Oto tries to stay formal from what he can see, but the others, not so much. Not exactly what he was expecting when he came here.

After a moment, he also rests the gun against his shoulder, his hand digs out a cigaret from an open pack that he stashed on his uniform. Alec makes a questioning gesture with it in his hand, stealing another glance at the two younger on the team. "Any place?" From his motions, its implied that he doesn't feel comfortable smoking in front of those younger than him, although never mind that he doesn't know of a place that's allowed to do such here.

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (3), Lighter (full), Ares Shrike, 200 5.56 rounds (Loaded).
HP: 15
Stats
Int: 8
Str: 15
Agi: 7
Skills: Close Combat (3), Demolition (3), Heavy weapons (1)
Advantages: Determined
Disadvantages: Chain-Smoker, Stressed
Perks: Large Frame, Good Samaritan, Quiet
Quirks: Quiet, Good Samaritan, Large Frame
Bio: Alec grew up in a big city in the US. He was large by most standards, even as a kid, and its served him well enough. He's never been the most dexterous, indeed Alec considers himself a bit accident prone, it not being too uncommon for him to bump into things due to his large frame. He's never been the brightest either, didn't do too bad in school but did noticeably lag behind some of the other students. It wasn't that he couldn't apply what he learned, it was that it simply took him longer to learn something that came more naturally to others.

But, what he prides himself in is his strength. Being large, most people let him be as who would want to mess with that one kid about a foot or two taller than about everyone else? That was always fine with him, left him time to himself. Alec always appreciated his time alone, enjoyed it indeed. For when he was alone, all the pressures of the world just slipped away from him, he could relax without having to feel like he was constantly playing catch-up with everyone around him. He never really had to work hard to make his body strong, it always just seemed to be so. Knocks he's taken would often harm others, but to him it was just something he'd shrug off. Alec never found a reason to voice his pain, it was always something that was passing, something he often forgot about five minutes later anyway, so why give it a voice? He's gotten more than one weird look for stubbing his toe and taking it in silent stride with nothing more than a grimace.

But indeed, what he prided himself on the most however, was strength of spirit. While he may not of been the most brightest, he still tried his hardest to learn, while he may not of been the most dexterous, he still tried his hardest to watch his step as he could. From what he's seen, his strength has been a boon to him, one that he should use to help instead of hurt people. He's often used to giving it his all when he needs to, so he shies not from hard work.

Joining the Archangels wasn't that big of a leap for him. While he would of preferred to make instead of break, he understands that he has a certain talent with stuff and before he joined Archangel, he was a demolistionist. Not the kind that worked with bombs mind you, more the kind that worked with the machines, wielded a jack hammer or a sledge. People would often have things brought up that they didn't wish there anymore, so he was paid to bring it down. When the troubles began, and became a threat, he didn't panic but rather went to see what he could do to help as best he could. This led him to Archangel.

Oto nods. "Any place, except the armory and the garage. We try to keep explosives away from fire. I suggest your room if you would like privacy." You continue to do so, going to your room and having two cigarets. The room has no windows for ventilation, but the smoke drifts out through a vent in the roof. Interesting design, to say the least. After you finish your second cigaret, using a small boat Oto had given you for the purpose as an ash tray, an alarm rings out, startling you a bit. You exit to the hallway, noticing the squad scrambling around, lining up in the main room. You join them, making sure to bring your equipment.

"It appears a group of werewolves has shown itself in a town in Canada" Otonashi says, as the group lines up against a wall, armed to the teeth. Otonashi has gotten a new hat, kind of like a police hat, but with the Archangel coloring scheme and that shield in the middle. "We need silver bullets?" Helena pipped up. She was a head shorter then average, you notice, as she talks. "We could just have David ground him again..." Tommy said jokingly. Tommy himself had several guns on him, a large rifle on his back, a shotgun in a sling next to it, and a pistol holstered on his back. David blushes slightly, "It...Was a Danish werewolf. It worked a lot better then your plan 'shoot it more'. Cured him and everything..." he said, slightly.

Otonashi, ignoring the argument, answered Helena's question. "I would assume not." He started simply. "It is a group of them, all reported at the same time. We can not rule it out, so it might be safe to bring a bullet or two. It is more likely that it is voluntary, ruling out curing them if I am correct. David is bringing along wolfs bane and surgeons knives just to be sure. Best case scenario, the wolves are benevolent, we give them a pamphlet for operation Archangel and leave. It isn't impossible. Worst case scenario,  and we are fighting a small group of killing machines. Any questions?"

Are there any questions you want to ask, or equipment you want to get to fight the werewolves?

[Rolepgeek]

((Well. Shit. Now I have to be more detailed. Also, will the chars ever meet up? It seems like a pretty separate set of adventure so far))

Patricia curses under her breath. Sucking her teeth, she hauls Scout onto her shoulder - thank Jesus for small favors like strength - making sure to be careful of his injured arm. As she turns to haul ass back to a safe area, she notices something. A grenade still on Scout's belt. The woman smiles wolfishly, and turns back to the guns. "Back in Texas, we loved you. But a tool is a tool, and when the tool starts failing..." She pulls the grenade off his belt, bites away the pin, and tosses it under them. "You throw it away," she muttered as she started sprinting for the door.

[Stirk]

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, .357 Magnum, hatchet, 56 .357 rounds (Speed loader) ,whiskey flask (3), rosary, glasses, Glock, Glock magazine (3), double barreled shotgun, HELLFIRE shells (4), shotgun shells (28), grenade (1),   Glasses case
HP: 11
Stats:
Int: 9
Str: 11
Agi: 10
Skills: General Medic(3), Small Arms (3), Shotgun (2), Sub-machine gun (2)
Advantages: She has steady hands, and is very calm in high stress situations. This can be a lifesaver in the field.
Disadvantages: Territorial about her work, needs glasses/contacts(farsighted), and a functional alcoholic.
Perks: Excellent bedside manner.
Quirks: Racist. Yep. Against EVERYONE. Not to the point where she dislikes them, just the point where she believes just about every stereotype there is. Curiously enough, not religious, or homophobic, or sexist. I can change this if it might cause problems.
Bio: Patricia grew up in southern Texaz, raised by two rich white parents who fit every stereotype of rich white people there was, or almost. They did love their daughter, but they were also assholes to most people below their station. When she became a surgeon in college, they were delighted to see their little girl take up such a proud profession. When the chupacabras started striking, she managed to save her brother's life, barely, but had to run, and he was left behind. She rode a horse for hours, eventually letting the poor thing rest, where she was taken in by some kind colored people. Long story short, she ended up joining the Archangel foundation, to help keep the fighting men alive. That said, being a Texan, she's not bad with a pistol either...
--------------

((Well. Shit. Now I have to be more detailed. Also, will the chars ever meet up? It seems like a pretty separate set of adventure so far))

Ah, just be as detailed as you want. I can make characters meet up, though I try to avoid it in most the time for games like this. Everyone is on at different times, and it is hard to get actions for two characters. I usually only do it if both players want it.

And well to be fair, your the only player who has been here for a few days. I have an overall plot going on, kind of, but at the moment it is kind of subtle. Its still building, don't worry.

--------------------------

The grenade explodes, sending fragments of guns everywhere and ruining the formation. They where close enough that most of them where destroyed, with two guns still left. You continue sprinting to the door with Scout on your shoulder, apparently awake but confused. Using your medical knowlage, you try to think what is wrong with him. His arm hands loosely at an odd angle, broken, you think. Hopefully the cannonball lost enough energy when it turned that it didn't break him completely. If his bone really is broken, he might be losing blood, from the bone cracking through the skin, which could kill him if you don't act fast.

You look to the corner, and the guns appear to be looking through the hallway, wary of following you. You could operate on Scout now, making sure he is OK before taking on the guns, to make sure he doesn't die on you. But this means you present a target for the guns, and they could attack you both while you are vulnerable. Or you could leave Scout here, and take on the guns before healing him. The condition might not be serious, and it shouldn't take to long to kill just two guns. But if it is seriuse, this could mean Scout's condition will get worse, and if you take to long it might even kill him.

What do you do?

[Rolepgeek]

Patricia grimaced. Deal with the guns, or fix up Scout? She knew he needed to be worked on fast; she could deal with the guns if needed. Pulling her pistols and setting them in easy reach, she got to work, trying to asses the wounds, clean it, and set the bone.

[Stirk]

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, .357 Magnum, hatchet, 56 .357 rounds (Speed loader) ,whiskey flask (3), rosary, glasses, Glock, Glock magazine (3), double barreled shotgun, HELLFIRE shells (4), shotgun shells (28), grenade (1),   Glasses case
HP: 11
Stats:
Int: 9
Str: 11
Agi: 10
Skills: General Medic(3), Small Arms (3), Shotgun (2), Sub-machine gun (2)
Advantages: She has steady hands, and is very calm in high stress situations. This can be a lifesaver in the field.
Disadvantages: Territorial about her work, needs glasses/contacts(farsighted), and a functional alcoholic.
Perks: Excellent bedside manner.
Quirks: Racist. Yep. Against EVERYONE. Not to the point where she dislikes them, just the point where she believes just about every stereotype there is. Curiously enough, not religious, or homophobic, or sexist. I can change this if it might cause problems.
Bio: Patricia grew up in southern Texaz, raised by two rich white parents who fit every stereotype of rich white people there was, or almost. They did love their daughter, but they were also assholes to most people below their station. When she became a surgeon in college, they were delighted to see their little girl take up such a proud profession. When the chupacabras started striking, she managed to save her brother's life, barely, but had to run, and he was left behind. She rode a horse for hours, eventually letting the poor thing rest, where she was taken in by some kind colored people. Long story short, she ended up joining the Archangel foundation, to help keep the fighting men alive. That said, being a Texan, she's not bad with a pistol either...
--------------

You set your gun in easy reach, getting out the Glock to, since it has a full clip of ammo in it. You take off Scouts uniform and access the wound, finding that his bone had not only broken through the skin, but apparently had chipped an artery as well. Blood was oozing from the wound disgustingly, with the bone setting in the middle of the open wound, he would need surgery to fix it completely. You act fast, taking out an IV and some painkiller, quickly applying it to Scout. You put his arm above his heart and quickly act to clean the wound, stop the bleeding, and set the wound the best you can. When you get a moment, you call on your communicator for an ambulance pick up. You manage to get Scout stabilized, though it takes a few minutes.

While you where helping Scout, the guns had come down the hallway, curiously observing what you are doing from a distance. They came closer a few times, but you reached for your gun and they retreated quickly. Now you have another decision to make. You need to get rid of the guns so the medical team can evac Scout. You can rush the guns, giving them the advantage, but you can probably take them. This allows the medical team to be safe, but puts you in danger. You can also take up a position, giving you the advantage put putting the medical team in jeopardy if it comes. You could also just call off the medical team, if you see fit.

What do you do now?

[Rolepgeek]

Patricia considers the weapons carefully. Then she loads her shotgun, and advances forward cautiously. "Come out come out wherever you are..." She wouldn't rush them - her skills might be needed again to help save Scout, she couldn't risk it - but she could advance and occupy. Let them try and attack her, but she would push them back.

[Stirk]

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, .357 Magnum, hatchet, 56 .357 rounds (Speed loader) ,whiskey flask (3), rosary, glasses, Glock, Glock magazine (3), double barreled shotgun, HELLFIRE shells (4), shotgun shells (26), grenade (1),   Glasses case
HP: 11
Stats:
Int: 9
Str: 11
Agi: 10
Skills: General Medic(3), Small Arms (3), Shotgun (2), Sub-machine gun (2)
Advantages: She has steady hands, and is very calm in high stress situations. This can be a lifesaver in the field.
Disadvantages: Territorial about her work, needs glasses/contacts(farsighted), and a functional alcoholic.
Perks: Excellent bedside manner.
Quirks: Racist. Yep. Against EVERYONE. Not to the point where she dislikes them, just the point where she believes just about every stereotype there is. Curiously enough, not religious, or homophobic, or sexist. I can change this if it might cause problems.
Bio: Patricia grew up in southern Texaz, raised by two rich white parents who fit every stereotype of rich white people there was, or almost. They did love their daughter, but they were also assholes to most people below their station. When she became a surgeon in college, they were delighted to see their little girl take up such a proud profession. When the chupacabras started striking, she managed to save her brother's life, barely, but had to run, and he was left behind. She rode a horse for hours, eventually letting the poor thing rest, where she was taken in by some kind colored people. Long story short, she ended up joining the Archangel foundation, to help keep the fighting men alive. That said, being a Texan, she's not bad with a pistol either...
--------------
You walk cautiously down the hallway, as the guns retreat, keeping their distance. As you enter the room, the pistol flies at you like a ninja star, from behind the door. Luckily, you quickly unload a barrel into it, sending it crashing to the ground. You turn your body to see the rifle jump toward you, quickly backstopping as you couldn't get a good shot off. The gun smashes into the tile in front of you, spraying debris everywhere, as you carefully aim. You feel the kick of your shotgun as the second blast destroys the gun, splintering it apart entirely and leaving the barrel stuck in the tile. Just when you where thinking how easy it was, you hear a sound on the other side of the room, near the door. How do you proceed?

[Rolepgeek]

Reload, take aim, do not fire until target is confirmed hostile.

[Stirk]

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, .357 Magnum, hatchet, 56 .357 rounds (Speed loader) ,whiskey flask (3), rosary, glasses, Glock, Glock magazine (3), double barreled shotgun, HELLFIRE shells (4), shotgun shells (26), grenade (1),   Glasses case
HP: 11
Stats:
Int: 9
Str: 11
Agi: 10
Skills: General Medic(3), Small Arms (3), Shotgun (2), Sub-machine gun (2)
Advantages: She has steady hands, and is very calm in high stress situations. This can be a lifesaver in the field.
Disadvantages: Territorial about her work, needs glasses/contacts(farsighted), and a functional alcoholic.
Perks: Excellent bedside manner.
Quirks: Racist. Yep. Against EVERYONE. Not to the point where she dislikes them, just the point where she believes just about every stereotype there is. Curiously enough, not religious, or homophobic, or sexist. I can change this if it might cause problems.
Bio: Patricia grew up in southern Texaz, raised by two rich white parents who fit every stereotype of rich white people there was, or almost. They did love their daughter, but they were also assholes to most people below their station. When she became a surgeon in college, they were delighted to see their little girl take up such a proud profession. When the chupacabras started striking, she managed to save her brother's life, barely, but had to run, and he was left behind. She rode a horse for hours, eventually letting the poor thing rest, where she was taken in by some kind colored people. Long story short, she ended up joining the Archangel foundation, to help keep the fighting men alive. That said, being a Texan, she's not bad with a pistol either...
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You quickly open your gun and pull out two shells, putting them in your gun as quickly as you can before returning to firing position. You carefully look at the position you heard the noise from and aim your gun in the general direction. Suddenly, a man pops up, and fires two bullets with a *BOOM* sound. You continue to take aim, but you quickly turn back as a loud *CRACK* comes from behind you. You automatically turn, seeing the cannonball, with two bullet cracks across it in a dent in the floor. Apparently, no one remembered to kill the cannonball, and it had taken the opportunity to somehow get on the roof, looking around you can see a latter turned into a ramp, among other things you cannot focus on do to having just been startled.

The man, who you are still pointing a gun at, shows his hands in a gesture of surrender. He looked young, but he had a lot of hair on his face, a beard and mustache combined. He was wearing a cowboy outfit, with some slight differences, making him look like an old movie character.

What do you do now?

[Rolepgeek]

"Wonderful. You came to life with the rest o' them, I reckon?" Patricia drawls, hands on her hips. She looks the very icon of matronly exasperation.