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

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), werewolf salve, Ares Shrike, 135 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.

"Excellent. Grab it for disposal" Oto orders over the communicator. You think for a second, and empty your half-full cigaret pack in your pocket, using the container to hold some salve. You then put it in your pocket next to the other cigaret packages and pick up the pot and pelts, then returning down the dark hallway to join Oto and David again. They had placed the pelts into a pile, wet with blood and salve, as you put your pelts and the pot on the pile. Otonashi pulled a barbeque style lighter from behind his back and set the pelts on fire, quickly lighting into the whole group. The smoke rose up through the cave, exiting high above, as the bright flames lit the room. You watched the fire for about ten minutes, as all the pelts had been mostly destroyed, when Oto gave the order to leave.

You return to the copter, after walking back through the mine. Helena and Tommy were waiting in the copter, looking bored out of their minds, when you arrive. You return to the main base, the ride much the same, though the seat seamed much bigger and more comfortable on this round. You make it back to the base in a few hours, now at night time. Otonashi tells you that you have a few hours of "cool down time" that you can use for whatever you want, and suggest sleeping. You do your nighttime rituals, with supplies like toothbrushes being supplied by Archangel, and go to bed. The bed is a bit small, though not uncomfortable. You wake up a few hours later in the morning, feeling hungry. Before bed, you remembered to keep the salve in a secure location in your drawers, to be put in a different area later.

Anything you want to do during cool down?

[Xanmyral]

Alec awoke, feeling groggy and with half remembered details of a fleeting dream that soon is forgotten. He hauls himself out of bed, cracking a few joints as he lights up a cigaret as the first part of his morning routine. He recalls yesterday, looking at the cigaret pack full of salve. He doubts anyone else on the team smokes, at least not that he sees, but knows that he has to find another place soon. He knows that what he did was against orders, but a lot of good can come from this if used right, he rationalized.

Its just a tool, like a sledge. It can be used for bad, as a weapon to harm people... Or it can be used as a way to build, create a foundation to aid people. That still didn't help prevent him from feeling a little guilty on it afterwards though. He tries to find a spot that would be easy to get at if you know what you were doing, but hard to find. He tests to see if he can take out one of the drawers, and if so if there was a spot between the drawer and the inner dresser frame to stash it for now. If not, he attempts to find some other good spot to get at.

Once the salve taken care of, Alec does the rest of his morning routine: some stretches and exercises to fully wake him up and get him ready, hygiene, food... He wonders where he could find the mess hall, cafe, or whatever they call it here. Alec makes a note to ask someone on his team if he could find one, and perhaps someone to get equipment from. He still needs a flashlight and shoulder sling, restock on ammo, and practice with his Shrike as well. Didn't Tommy offer to help him with that? He makes another mental note to do such if he finds him. If he can't practice with his Shrike now, either alone or with Tommie's help, then he would attempt to find the gym, or gym-like place to properly exercise.

Short-Term: Stretch, Exercise, Hygiene
Mid-Term: Food
Long-Term: Equipment Requisition, Range Practice, Exercise

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), werewolf salve, Ares Shrike, 135 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.

You examine the drawer, finding the perfect place to hide it just as you had described. After that had been handled, you begin your exercise. Having no equipment, you simply did light stretches and exercise, push ups, sit ups, and the like, on the hard floor. After a little bit of exercising, you exit your room and go to the main room, through the hallway. In the main room you see Helena and Tommy, playing video games and eating out of a paper bag. They wave happily to you as you greet them.

You talk to Tommy as they pause their game, as he eats something that looks like an egg-mac-muffin and drinks out of a paper cup. You tell him about your equipment issue, as well as asking questions about food. Tommy tells you he will get your equipment ready, so when you come back from breakfast he will be able to take you to the range. He gives you directions to food, stating that there are two main ways you can get food: You can go to the requisition officer, asking for your own, and getting some free with your requisition tokens. You will have to make your own food, but it is a little better food. There is also the cafeteria, with low-quality but free food.

Where do you want to go?

[Xanmyral]

Alec supposes it would be best to eat at the cafe for now, he never fancied himself much of a cook, and the requisition tokens might have better uses than food for now. "Thanks." Alec nods at Tommy and Helena, leaving them to their games and taking his leave to the cafe. He does make a note to talk to the requisition officer later however to see what could be gotten there besides higher-quality food.

[Rolepgeek]

Patricia stares at the cowboy for a few moments. "What'd you say yer name was again, hon'?" She asks softly. He was a young lad, couldn't much older than her nephew was when this all started. She stares for a few seconds, then looks back to Charlie and the rest. "He's comin' with us. And you won't be pointing no machine gun at him. He's just a kid, and he helped me just the same as any of you would. Just needs to get filled in, is all, and he can help us. A crack shot, he is." Patricia wasn't actually elderly, but she was a tough biddy, and this was her best maternal 'no-nonsense' voice. But then again, she was pretty new to the team.

((You can put my sheet thing is spoilers. In fact, could you? It takes up quite a bit of room.))

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), werewolf salve, Ares Shrike, 135 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.

You go over to the cafeteria, using the directions given to you by Tommy. You go out into the hallway, then into a larger hallway, the one you saw before. After a few minutes of walking with the masses of people surrounding you, you arrive at a large room where the large hallway turns. It has dozens of doors, some double doors, some garage-like flip up doors, others still automatic doors, all leading into one place, the cafeteria. Hard to miss. You enter the cafeteria, it is the size of a walmart, at least. Uniformed soldiers sat around eating, a few in line for food, and a forklift was lifting cardboard boxes to the kitchen facility. It looked much like a school cafeteria, scaled up a thousand times. You get in a line witch advances like a factory, plopping food on the plate as the line moves swiftly forward. You grab a plate and after a few minutes in line, a man in a hair net and apron gives you a large scoop of watery eggs, moving along the next man gives you some over cooked hash browns, and a third man giving you a hard biscuit. Finally, at the end of the line, you are given the choice between water, watered down milk, and a powdered fruit drink. You take your food and sit at one of the long tables, eating alone. The food isn't very good, but at least it fills you up. You put your plate in a conveyer belt and leave.

Do you want to check out the requisition office first, or do you want to get to training? Or something else entirely?

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

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, hatchet, (Speed loader) ,whiskey flask (3), rosary, glasses, Glock(13),  Glock magazine (2), double barreled shotgun, HELLFIRE shells (4), shotgun shells (26),    Glasses case
HP: 10
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 can put my sheet thing is spoilers. In fact, could you? It takes up quite a bit of room.))

No.

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

"...Colt...Colt Peacemaker, I think..." The cowboy says, as he holsters his new gun. Goldman nodded. "He will make a good addition to the team. Ill just fill out the paper work, the paper work for proper Freak usage, room usage....you guys are just lucky I am good with paperwork and requisition politics." "Fine, but he is your responsibility Patricia" Charlie said, putting his gun down once again.

"I....Just want to know what I am....Who I am" Colt started, looking around at the group. "....I will help the best I can."

Anything you want to do before returning to base?

[Xanmyral]

Alec made his way to the cafe, careful to avoid bumping into anyone or anything along the way. It'll still take a while for him to get used to the sheer scale of this place. When he finally got to the cafe, once again he was taken aback by the size. Place is huge! His stomach reminded him why he was there. Short trip through a line later, he had his rather... Interesting breakfast. Well, he's had worse to be frank. After eating his meal alone, he felt fed although not exactly with the best of food. He's starting to reconsider not using his requisition tokens on food...

Either way, he has more business to take care of. For one, he still needs to train. In the last mission he shot the wall more than naught, and while that would be good for his previous job it isn't enough for this one. Alec makes his way to where he last saw Tommy, hoping he can find their room well enough without getting too lost, being careful not to bump into anyone or anything. As well as possibly offering to help people carry things if they look rather overburdened if that doesn't take him too far from where he needs to go, or possibly in exchange for directions if he gets lost.

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), werewolf salve, flashlight, Ares Shrike, 200 5.56 rounds (Loaded).
HP: 15
Stats
Int: 8
Str: 15
Agi: 7
Skills: Close Combat (3), Demolition (3), Heavy weapons (2)
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

You return to your room, getting lost once in the large hallway and getting directions from a young man in a service uniform who was carefully moving a box. You offer to assist him, but he explains that he is moving ordnance, a box of HELLFIRE rounds, and he would feel safer moving them himself. You return to the door, the snake still on the cast iron door, as you enter once again. Tommy is waiting, with his own Shrike and the equipment you had asked for, handing you the sash and a normal flash light. "Not as fancy as Oto's, but a lot less heavy." He stated in his rapid-fire way as he lead you to the training ground.

You walk through a series of hallways, smaller then the road like main hallway, yet still rather large, with a few people moving about. You break into another hallway, larger then the prior hallways but smaller then the main hallway. Walking down it a bit more was a large room, about the size of the cafeteria, with the sounds of gunfire coming out between doors that continuously swung open, like all doors in the Archangel main base, bringing equipment and men in and out. Tommy pulls out a large headphone-like communicator and hands it to you, as well as some orange ear plugs, and puts them on himself as well. "Welcome to training room B" he said over the communicator, as he happily skipped between a double door into the range. He talked to a man in a service uniform at the main desk, also wearing a similar communicator, as the man pointed. You take the time to look around the room. It was large, with hundreds of gun ranges on each side, of all sizes. Small ones with humanoid targets, ones hundreds of feet wide with circle targets, some with multiple targets, many with men and women shooting all sorts of guns at the targets. The room was mostly cement, with a high ceiling and all walls not getting shot at coated with some kind of pads that are apparently there to keep the echo down, doing an admirable job, but the sound of the room is still deafening if it were not for your hearing protection.

Tommy motions for you to follow him and he takes you to a two-man range, with several round targets floating around on wires connected to the roof, that could be brought in and replaced by a red button on the side. "Pay attention!" Tommy said with a smile on his face, as he readied his gun. "We have a lot to learn and a little time to learn it in!" Tommy had an interesting device on his eye, a kind of glasses that were cut in half, like a manacle that connects to his communicator.

Tommy's rapid fire speaking came in useful during the training, as he joyfully explained and showed the proper techniques for using the firearm. He taught you how to fire from a tripod standing, sitting, kneeling, and prone, to start with. Next he brought out bipods, teaching you how to fire from the shoulder, hip, and underarm, and the situations that you use them in. He then teaches you how to properly manipulate the trigger, how and when to fire sustained, rapid, cyclical. He teaches you how to manipulate your shoulder to fire while holding it, how to aim properly with the gun, how to fire against fast moving targets by using a movement target like that in a shooting gallery, how to hit a variety of targets, among other, more technical things.

You are not sure you understand all his training or that you retained it all, but he said it should work for most machine guns you will be using. You do feel a little more comfortable with it, firing off several hundred rounds in just the short time you had with Tommy, who fired twice as many as you did. Every time you ran out, Tommy would switch a gear on his communicator and a man would come with another cardboard box full. After a few hours, Tommy had said that he had to stop, saying you have about half an hour left and Tommy still has not prepared his guns for the next mission, saying he will try and teach you more later.

Is there anything else you want to do with your last 30 minutes cool down?

[Xanmyral]

Alec readjusts his equipment, going over the lesson that he can in his head trying to commit what he could to memory. If it wasn't for the ear plugs, he'd probably be deaf by now, but it was all worth it. He feels much more comfortable with his Shrike, at least in that he believes he will hit them at least half the time now instead of a third of the time. He felt accomplished for today, although it hasn't really started yet by his count. Yet there's still so much to do. He knew most of nothing about what they faced today, only that they were werewolves. Everything else confused him, but his teammates seem to know. How long have they been doing this? A while is all he could guess. Finding a place to learn about this kind of thing might help though, or perhaps someone.

Alec supposes that he knows the basics well enough, things such as zombies, vampires, werewolves, things like that. But he figures that anything more esoteric than that would probably cause him to be at a loss. Couldn't hurt to maybe hit the books... Or whatever they use to learn about this stuff. Surely they would have something like that here, he'd be surprised if they didn't have a Starbucks stashed away somewhere with how huge this place is. Alec leaves the range and asks for directions on where he might be able to find a library, or some place he could learn about Freaks or something akin to that. If he finds it, he will attempt to remember where it is at and return back to base so as not to be late. If he doesn't find it after a small bit, he will just head back and prepare for the mission.

[Rolepgeek]

Patricia walks over to where she though the Nazi's bullet hit when she dodged it, and tries to pry it off/out to take with her. "Heh. Good name, I suppose. Let's go to your new home, then, huh Colt?"

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Alec Rowe
Age: 27
Equipment: Sledge hammer, pack of cigarets (2), Lighter (full), werewolf salve, flashlight, Ares Shrike, 200 5.56 rounds (Loaded).
HP: 15
Stats
Int: 8
Str: 15
Agi: 7
Skills: Close Combat (3), Demolition (3), Heavy weapons (2)
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

You leave the range, thanking Tommy and returning the hearing protection, as you enter the hallway again. You begin asking around for a library, as your time starts to run out. After asking several staff and soldiers who had no idea, you found a young soldier who had used the room for its internet, and she directed you toward the library. You walk through a complicated series of hallways, following the directions written on a paper target from the range. You eventually come out to the large hallway again, eventually turning into a medium size hallway. The hallway eventually lead to a smaller hallway, like the one in front of the squad's main room. You come up to a simple double door, simple and elegant with small glass windows. You enter the room.

Like everything in the Archangel facility, it was large. Several pillars reached to the roof high above, covered in books in a circular fashion, with a spiral staircase surrounding them. On the sides of the large room were stairs leading to small strip-rooms, where comfortable looking chairs for reading and chairs in front of computers could be seen. This is the first room of the Archangel facility that appears to have stairs. You walk over to a pillar and look it it. It is covered in books, completely and utterly, all standing rigid next to each other. The pillar was a little wider then you, and there were at least ten of them in the room, all rising above to the roof. You look toward a large desk with several librarians in uniform working on computers, noticing that you only have five minutes left, not enough to do anything and barely enough to make it back in time.

You rush back to the main room, having to stop for directions once, and finding that you have showed up a little late. Everyone is waiting around, doing their own thing.

Is there anything you want to do before your next mission?

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

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, hatchet, (Speed loader) ,whiskey flask (3), rosary, glasses, Glock(13),  Glock magazine (2), double barreled shotgun, HELLFIRE shells (4), shotgun shells (26),    Glasses case
HP: 10
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 find the bullet, a smashed piece of lead, and take it. You all exit, with Colt taking the spot that Scout had ridden in on, and you make it home in good time. You do your nightly rituals and go to bed, after getting your new contact lenses. You wake up several hours later, pretty late at night, and realize you are hungry. Does everyone ever eat dinner here?

After waking up, you go out to the main room. The smell of blueberry muffins is in the air as you look around. The twins were watching a conversation between Goldman and Colt, as Goldman sat in his stuffed chair, with a large book in his lap. He looked exceptionally tired, as if he had not gotten any sleep. Colt, who was sitting across from him on a fold out chair, sitting in it backwards with his arms over the head, speaking with him.

"Perhaps....Demons?" Goldman asks, pointing to something in the book. "Can't be that." Apollo said, "We fought a possessed cross." Artemis finished. "Then....a puppeteer?" Goldman stated. Apollo waved his hand over Colt's head. "Nope. No strings." Colt spoke up, his voice losing a little of the old western accent, now only a flavor in his voice, "I...appreciate what yall are doing...but mister Goldman, you need to get some sleep." "You have not gotten any sleep either...." Goldman stated, after yawning. An alarm goes off, and Goldman puts the book down for a second and comes back with a cup of tea, putting it on a tray next to his chair. He takes a sip and looks a little more awake. "I am trying to assist you, but I don't yet have enough information. The paper work is mostly done, so all we need is information..."

"Oh, Patricia! Didn't see you there!" Artemis says, turning from the couch that she and her brother are sitting on. "We made some muffins, and have some extra. Go ahead and eat all you want, we made plenty."

Is there anything you want to do during cool down?

[Rolepgeek]

Patricia smiles at the twins. "Thank you kindly, Artemis, I believe I'll take you up on that. What kind are they?" The woman walks across the room, grabbing one of the muffins, and taking a bite to see how it tasted, before sitting down with them. "So what y'all talking 'bout?" She asks, once she's swallowed. Her mama didn't raise her to have no manners. Speaking of which... "Any word about Scout yet?"

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, hatchet, (Speed loader) ,whiskey flask (3), rosary, glasses, Glock(13),  Glock magazine (2), double barreled shotgun, HELLFIRE shells (4), shotgun shells (26),    Glasses case
HP: 10
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 take a muffin, it is blueberry. It is good and moist, though the top had dried a little bit, and it was pretty cold. "We are discussing what is causing Colt to, well, be alive. We simple do not have enough information to properly deduce the answer..." Goldman says, tiredly. "Scout has returned early this morning, when the medical ship went for him. He is currently in the medical ward, he will be in shape to be able to scout or next mission by the time our cool down is over. Thanks to you, of course." Goldman continues.

Anything you want to do during cool down?

[Rolepgeek]

"That's good. Muffins are delicious by the way. As for Colt...I dunno. Probably same thing made the rest of 'em alive. Might be something like the terrycotta warriors the mongolians got." Patricia took out some of her whiskey, sipped it, and offered some the boy. "Seems like you might need it." Whether he accepted or not, she got up, and looked at the twins. "Where's the kitchen? Got a hankerin' fer grits and some bacon, right about now."

[Stirk]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Patricia Garfien
Age: 37
Equipment: Backpack :Surgical bag, hatchet, (Speed loader) ,whiskey flask (3), rosary, glasses, Glock(13),  Glock magazine (2), double barreled shotgun, HELLFIRE shells (4), shotgun shells (26),    Glasses case
HP: 10
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...

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

"We already ruled out a dozen things" Goldman says, as you offer the whiskey to Colt. "I... am not thirsty." He said, putting his hands up dismissively. "He doesn't eat, he doesn't drink.... but he cant talk, and in theory die." Goldman continued, making a thoughtful yet tired look with his face. Artemis points to a door at the side of the room, "Bacon is in the fridge. We have corn, though I don't have a clue how to make grits, you might want to get some at the requisition office if you really want some."

You open the door and look inside the kitchen. It is a medium sized room, exactly the same as it looked last time you went in here for leftovers. You look in the fridge and find a package of heavily seasoned bacon, high quality stuff. You cook it in a small pan, which was kept in the dishwasher.

What do you do now?