Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars!~
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Jun 10, 2016 23:39:42 GMT
Post by Star Ryder on Jun 10, 2016 23:39:42 GMT
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Space is the final frontier for all, but it’s the wild west for those who seek adventure.
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A Blackhawk helicopter flies over a lone, tall pine tree in the darkness, landing in a makeshift military camp. There’s a big buzz around the camp. All of the soldiers are on high alert. Nearby, fallen trees show that there has been an impact of a small alien ship. The area has been fenced off recently in order to prevent anyone that had plans to sneak in and investigate. Several spotlights surrounded the area to give more light.
A dark green jeep rolls up a dusty mountain trail with a high ranking general in the passenger seat. Some nearby soldiers salute the general, and are met with a salute and a dismissal. Inside of the Blackhawk helicopter, several soldiers get out in order to secure the perimeter even more. The high ranking brass walks to the large tent near the fenced off impact site. He walks in and comes face to face with another general, along with a handful of scientists.
“General Phillips, sir,” the other general says as he salutes Phillips.
“At ease, General Dewitt,” says Phillips, taking off his gloves. “Now would you care to tell me why the Hell you interrupted my ski trip with the family and brought me to a stupid alien crash site? These things are a dime a dozen. Standard protocol is to issue a small task force-”
“Excuse me, General Phillips, is it?” A man in a white lab coat walks forward. “I’m Doctor Fitzgerald. General Dewitt called me in in order to analyze this very bizarre phenomena, and I think it would not be wise to follow protocol—”
General Phillips turns towards the scientist. “Who the hell do you think you are, Doctor? I don’t give a damn about your name or whatever the hell you do, protocol is protocol, and no unauthorized people are allowed on crash sites!”
General Dewitt looked up from the computer he was at. “With all do respect, General Phillips, I issued him authorization. This ship is different from the others that crash with hostiles. According to Fitzgerald, this ship belonged to a race of aliens that disappeared long ago.”
General Phillips groaned. “And why the hell did you call me here? Can’t get it open so you call in the top guns?”
Fitzgerald cleared his throat. “Actually, we were under orders to call you, since we were calling them…”
Phillips turned towards the scientist. “You mean to tell me you lowly civilian scientist—”
“Government contracted investigators for extraterrestrial investigations, sir.”
“Like I was saying, Contract Snooper called those freaks to come investigate a hostile?!”
Dewitt stood up from his chair. “Actually, I called them. They should be arriving any moment now. If anyone can figure out what’s inside and how we can use it to protect earth, it’s those people.”
Phillips took a seat in a chair and folded his hands. “And since protocol indicates you need top brass to be present, you called me in because you knew I don’t give a rats ass about alien technology.”
“Precisely sir.”
“You know me too well, Dewitt. What’s the ETA?”
“Just a few more minutes sir.”
“And to think I was actually going to get a good night’s rest before skiing with my wife… You owe me, Dewitt. Big time.”
“Affirmative, sir.”
✎pie |
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Former mayor of the people.
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Jun 13, 2016 17:13:10 GMT
Post by Senator on Jun 13, 2016 17:13:10 GMT
Aliens, they said. To hell with those things, Senator thought. He had more important things to do besides go and look at some dime-a-dozen crashed craft that would have a few hostiles in it. He wasn't an extra-terrestial fighter, he was a protector of Kingsport. Yet the initiative had been very good at convincing him to abandon his family for this night to head over to another part of the US for this mission. One of those reasons was the fact that an old friend was in the area. US army soldier Jonathan Booker. A good man, if a bit old to be a part of the army by now. He had been sent to the area to check the crash landing with some top tier generals. What a waste of good men and time.
The jetpack was acting up again. It coughed and coughed, causing John to roll his eyes and slam a fist against the chest of his exoskeleton. That made the coughing stop for now. He was almost there. He could see the faint light of the camp in the distance, one of the tentacle arms of his own suit pointing a general flashlight forwards so that he could actually see what was in front of him. He was getting far too old for this kind of stuff by now.
The landing was always the hardest part. At least ten soldiers pointed their guns at him until he removed his helmet and showed them his papers. Back at Kingsport these snot nosed youths would've known him in a heartbeat, and they would've apologized for even threatening him with a gun. He pushed his way past them, the lone tentacle arm slithering back into the shoulder slot of his suit. He could use a cigar right now.
His hand quickly pushed away the flap of the tent, entering the area. His eye ran over the generals present. "Gentlemen." One tentacle appendage popped out to drag a chair for him to sit down on, soon slithering back inside it's slot.
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Post by The Devil's Advocate on Jun 15, 2016 5:34:03 GMT
 Morricone drove his way up the little hill, his 1974 Dodge D200 picking up gravel and dirt along the road. The blonde magician closed his eyes for one second, though, as sleep overtook him: the drive had taken way too long and he was feeling tired of all this bullshit backroad driving. That, and he hadn’t slept last night. So when the call came in that they wanted a few agents to go investigate an UFO crash in FUCKING NEBRASKA, guess who was there to answer?
Of course, that’s when the deer jumped in front of his truck. “Oh, shit-” was all he managed to muster before the impact came.
When Morricone woke up from the crash, his first instinct was to do a full check of his own body. He was alive, obviously. The pained breathing kind of gave it away. Then, he opened his eyes and grabbed at his head - no huge bumps or obvious headaches. So far so good.
What about the truck?
...Oh shit, the truck! The truck was, so to speak, totalled. Deered to hell and back. The huckster kicked his door open and walked around the vehicle to assess the damage. What he found was vehicular carnage, and bloody meat covering a good 2 meter perimeter around it - the deer’s husk laying on its side, dead even before it could feel his stomach open from the impact.
Normally, Morricone liked meat. He didn’t, however, enjoy cold cuts when they were splattered on his windshield. That and the motor was smoking.
The magician sighed and made the call on his cellphone quickly. the Initiative would come and grab his car with a chopper or something, they always figured it out. Then, they’d repair his father’s truck and propose upgrades - which he would refuse. And now, all he had to do was walk towards the crash site and temporary camp, hoping no one saw that terribly shameful display.
A soldier waved at him to stop, and then looked back at the truck, blood, and unfortunate victim. As the young kid opened his mouth, Morricone flashed him his Initiative badge and added, his voice cold and harsh: "Don't ask. I'm here for the crash, not MINE. Man, the Initiative is going to hate me for getting this towed..." As he walked, he was surprised to meet...
The Senator of all people, in all his exoarmored glory. "Oh, holy shit, I'm meeting a legend!" He offered a hand to be shook, after having lit up one of his special not-dying-from-spiritually-collapsed-lung cigarettes. "Oh dear, Mr. Senator, I've been a fan since I was a kid, lived in Kingsport almost all of my life, and I swear it's the truth! To be honest, you're the reason I joined the Initiative. Why are you so far from home, though?"
Star Ryder , Senator
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Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars!~
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Post by Star Ryder on Jun 15, 2016 6:17:56 GMT
 General Phillips remained in his chair with all of the pomp and circumstance going on before lazily looking up. "I Don't get paid enough for this shit. Dewitt, you go and tell whoever's coming what needs to go on-."
And in that moment, the Senator walked in and sat at a chair. "Oh, they sent the Senator. Nice change of pace from the usual stuff I'm seeing on the news... Then again this probably won't make it there, as with all the other incidents... Oh, don't mind me, they just need a sign off to break standard procedure with this wild goose chase." General Phillips leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. "Ask them what's going on, I'm catching shut-eye..."
As for General Dewitt, he stood up and offered his hand to the two heroes that had entered the room. "That's General Phillips, I'm General Dewitt. Now, wait for a moment while I go get Fitzgerald. He'll tell you what he needs help with." As he turned to go, he was met with the face of the scientist walking over.
"Excuse me, it's an honor to meet you two. I'm Doctor Fitzgerald, I work with the United States government on tracking extraterrestrial life and their creations..." A scoff was heard from the general attempting to snooze. "Anyways, we contacted the Initiative for the Greater Good because we need some help with this pod... Technically, it shouldn't even exist, due to our records of the race being exterminated over a hundred years ago. Unfortunately, we cannot get the doors open. Based on our scans, there doesn't appear to be any life inside, but we do believe there's the potential of there being several weapons inside... Possibly a bomb..." The professor ajusted his glasses. "If it was active, it would have already exploded."
"What the Doctor is trying to say is that we need you to help us open the hatch and see if thee are any weapons inside that will help the United States Army increase its defense against extraterrestrial attacks." General Dewitt paced around and looked towards the chain link fence. "That's the crash zone over there. For some reason, we just can't pry that damn door open... You two should use whatever method you can to get inside of the pod. Any further questions?"
General Phillips answered with a loud snore. Poor bastard was already asleep.
Star Ryder,Senator,The Devil's Advocate,
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Former mayor of the people.
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Jun 15, 2016 12:34:13 GMT
Post by Senator on Jun 15, 2016 12:34:13 GMT
Star Ryder, The Devil's AdvocateThis was building up to be a surprisingly positive little trip. First some recognition from the higher brass. That was always a nice little thing, especially when his job could be a little bit thankless if one wasn't the type to whore themselves out to the media outlets for some rank increases. "Phillips, I believe?" He kept tabs on the military these days, even if his service all but over by now. There was always some use in connections to the higher ups. His lips almost twisted into a smile when the general leaned back to sleep. John could understand that... The white coats never had anything interesting to say. He knew it all too well, what with all the maintenance his suit needed. The other positive surprise came out in the form a blonde man who seemed like he belonged to the Americana fairs of old. Nowadays those kind of fairs weren't as common, but he could remember during the 70's when he and his younger brother went out to them. He was, what. Twenty? And his brother was around ten at the time, if he was remembering right. Although his memory was rather bad by now, when it came to his younger days. Before the mayor terms, anyways. Anyhow. The man he from now on dubbed Americana shook his hand, and John allowed him to. The small smile on his face kept itself there as his eye explored the other a bit more. He was a part of the initiative, but he wasn't one of the higher ranks. Not that it mattered, although this would become awkward if he had to say the other's name. "Please, son. For you, it's John." He chuckles in a gruff manner and rolls his shoulders. "The Senator's just a name I have to use when dealing with the media... Not that it matters much nowadays. You can just google my name now and find all the links." He shakes his head in an almost disappointed way before looking back up. "I'm just here to do my duty for the US of A and for Kingsport. It wasn't like many were interested in taking up the offer." A sad truth. Besides, he could always fly there. Most heroes couldn't. He turned his head away from Americana to listen to the white coat speak. Yada yada. Senator almost rolled his eye in boredom, honestly jealous of Phillips for his ability to just sleep trough all of this. Lucky bastard didn't have to break down a door and possibly slaughter alien weapons for the United States Army. A tentacle arm reached over and grabbed a cigar from the table, lifting it over to Senator. He raised a hand and soon spoke his question. "But what if there's something alive in there, despite your scans?"
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Post by The Devil's Advocate on Jun 19, 2016 5:38:51 GMT
Morricone felt somewhat faint when one of his childhood heroes shook his hands - and then Senator asked him to call him by his first name! This was a great day. Some parts of Morricone’s head told him to ask for an autograph, but he could always ask later. “I, hum, don’t worry, I just wanted to call you Senator because it felt more… Official, if you can understand what I mean. And yeah,” he added, sighing and blowing a puff of blue, crackling smoke in the air, “People are busy with something else, I think: some other crisis around the Miskatonic county, from what I heard. Didn’t catch the details before driving up to here. And deering my ride.”
Morricone sighed again and looked back to the tent’s entrance - his truck was still totalled, and thinking about it made him blush in shame. The Devil’s Advocate suddenly felt like he was the epytome of the Mendoza Line, but for heroes. Perfect mediocrity. He shook his head away from that thought and continued.
“ANYWAYS, if we need to open the pod, I might as well scan it first, just to make sure we’re not walking inside of a gigantic bomb. If you’ll follow this humble citizen to exhibit number one…”
Morricone motioned the military personnel, the scientist, and his idol to follow him as he walked out of the tent and towards the crash site: soldiers let them pass as they approached the small crater, and finally reached the drop pod. It was a stout little thing, cylindrical, equipped with aerodynamic fins along its whole body - no door in sight. “Alright, now that we’re here, let me show you exhibit number two.”
He closed his eyes and focused his will towards a specific form, before exhaling and opening his palm up towards the sky. Then, something poked at the inside of his, before breaking through it like some piece of tearing paper. No blood came out of the wound, and in fact, the insides looked like some acid trip representation video that was popular in the 70’s. What came out of the wound was a fishing rod, its line tightly rolled up inside of what looked like a vicious fish’s - or was it a lizard's? - skull. Morricone practiced his swings once or twice…
...And then cast his line in the drop pod, the hook traversing the tough iron as if it was water, leaving a ripple behind it. “Mmmm,” Morricone said, thoughtful. “Mmmm, yeah ok, I’m not getting vitals, but I got something. Let me scout around a little more. I’m sensing some kind of computer inside of this. Probably this ship’s pilot AI? I dunno. Beach Boy isn’t precise enough to tell, sorry,” he added sheepishly. “I’ve got some kind of closet? It’s filled with… I think they’re small arms. They ‘feel’ like firearms, at least by touch. And…”
He smiled.
“...Oh, hello, you! There’s something inside - or someone, I mean. The reason I wasn’t feeling it was because they’re pulling a Han Solo on us: whoever’s inside of this drop pod is either in carbonite, or a living popsicle. I’ve got a weird, solid, fridge-like sculpture with a humanoid outline on one of its sides, and there’s a pulse in there. Well,” Morricone said, pulling out his line and shouldering Beach Boy as the feral skull snapped its jaw like castanets, “we should be careful not to hit that if we try to break the thing open, at least. I didn’t sense anything bomb-like, or a weapon system, so we should be fine.
Senator , Star Ryder
(ooc: yo Jester, Flip told me you had the green light to post first, before he'll answer and shit, so go on ahead my man) |
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Former mayor of the people.
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Jun 19, 2016 10:42:26 GMT
Post by Senator on Jun 19, 2016 10:42:26 GMT
Star Ryder, The Devil's Advocate"I heard of that thing at Miskatonic. I was tempted to interfere myself, but then this came up. Enough heroes dawdling in one spot will signal nothing but troubles, so. I decided it'd be best for me to come here instead." He released Morricones hand and nodded, looking over to the white coats and the sleeping general. He still felt jealous. He'd rather be sleeping at his home, maybe enjoy some good food before, drink a glass of wine... But this city made him. And now it'd eat him alive if he didn't protect it. He casually stood up from his seat and watched Morricone with his one eye. Apparently Americana had some sort of idea... He hadn't studied the other's powers at all, so this would be interesting to watch. He followed the dusty man along, some officers and scientists following them. Phillips had been left to sleep in the tent, perhaps as a sort of punishment for not taking this matter seriously. Senator was taking it seriously. Or as seriously as you could take a situation like this. It was probably just some alien race's anal probe or something that crashed down here. With luck they might find some star charts or research logs that'd boost humanity's travels to space by about ten years tops. He was a bit too cynical about this whole thing, perhaps. But when did these alien wrecks have anything life changing inside of them? Never. Just some nice things you could still live without. What the hell was that, though. He stared at Morricone spewing out a fishing pole out from his palm like it was nothing, as if he was just going out on a normal fishing trip. God, his eye almost hurt from looking at that pole. It reminded him of his youth, though. God, those memories. Now was not the right time to think of the 70's. Was this his power? Making... Objects, if one could call the flashy acid trippy fishing pole that, that could go trough materials you normally couldn't go trough like that? He listened trough the explanation Morricone was giving them, almost as if he was just describing them a fish he had caught. "... A humanoid?" So, something -was- inside the ship. No weapons systems, though. Nothing of the sorts. His eye moved from the clattering skull and to the ship door that he could clearly see, thanks to all the lights pointing at the ship. "Son, if you'd allow me." He calmly walks over, tears open a hole in the fencing, goes trough that and stops in front of the door. He strokes his chin while watching it, before then placing both of his palms against the material. His fingers began to sink in, a loud metallic screech echoing all around as Senator slowly got a grip on the door. When he had a strong enough hold, he began to pull, and pull... Until the door finally got off it's hinges with a loud crack. He huffed and placed it down next to the now open entrance. "There we go." |
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Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars!~
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Jun 19, 2016 17:39:09 GMT
Post by Star Ryder on Jun 19, 2016 17:39:09 GMT
After senator opened the door, he would discover that Advocate's description of the interior was pretty spot on. The inside was a metallic shade, with a computer terminal against the wall. The back of the "ship" contained a hefty block of carbonite, with a very humanoid shape apparent inside of it. After the door as opened, a scanner suddenly popped out of the ceiling, scanning the Senator.
"Analysis complete. Detected: Homo Sapien, Language: 97% chance of English. Finishing translation process in 5...4...3...2...1. Translation process completed."
The screen would then light up with various information detailing the event logs of what occurred. It would stop on the log of the passenger identity. The soldiers had aimed their guns at the scanners but the scientist had told them to stand down, which the general repeated to his men.
"Escape Log. Survivor name: Annabelle Cloudia. Home Planet: Earth. Report on crew status... Incomplete. No recorded status as to the crew's health and no found details as to the crew's logs. Details on Annabelle: The crew marksman. Saved from death in... 1857 Anno Domini, Earth Years. Current Status on Annabelle: The Carbonite freezing process has inhibited aging, movement, and has inhibited a deep sleep."
"Fascinating..." The scientist said behind them. "We've been looking into cryogenics for years! Now it's here? And with a live test subject, nonetheless."
The screen would light up again. "Do you wish to awaken Annabelle?" The screen displayed two options. A green "yes" button and a red "no" button.
"Well, looks like we really don't have that much to go on here, Professor. Other than that freezer thing. Those guns look ancient compared to alien tech they use now." The general sighed and stared inside while shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see the day when a human crashed into earth frozen in black ice. You do what you want with her. I'll fill out the transfer paperwork. Just make sure you report any information that you get to Fitzgerald. He loves extraterrestrial life."
The screen was still lit up, and those options still remained on screen.
Senator , The Devil's Advocate |
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Former mayor of the people.
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Jun 19, 2016 21:22:01 GMT
Post by Senator on Jun 19, 2016 21:22:01 GMT
Senator quickly popped out a pistol from some small nudge of his armor, pointing it at the scanner. But he soon lowered it and let out an almost shaky sigh once the scanner began to bleep out information that revealed it had no hostile intentions. Why was he even on edge? Americana had revealed that there was no weaponry abroad the vessel. Perhaps he had mistrusted the younger hero? He didn't want to lie, so... He admitted it inside of his head, gazing over his shoulder briefly at the other hero. He was saddened to think that he could still doubt his comrades. Perhaps his nature was far too cynical for this place. For this whole business. But now was not the right time to think about that.
He ignored most of the scientist technobabble, the general, and mostly everything, and walked over to the woman stuck in carbonite. His cape flowed smoothly against the ship's flooring. Was it made out of some alien metal, or simply our steel? He could never know. And he didn't care too much. Annabelle? That was a nice name. To think a girl who seemed (who knows what she actually looked like inside the carbonite) so young was actually over a hundred years older than he was. And to think he thought he was one of the oldest purely human heroes. A faint chuckle left him as he watched the carbonite etched figure with a curiosity rarely seen from the Senator.
"Do you want to awaken Annabelle." He repeated that question to himself like it was a lifeline. Of course they would. He stared over to the scientists... They were the ones that question had been presented to, not him. He walked back over to them, arms folded behind his back in an orderly pose. "I trust you understand that she should be awoken as soon as possibly. Preferably now." He stares to the block of carbonite for a split second. "She might need medical attention. And keeping human life in a state like that would be quite monstrous... Don't you agree, son." His eye wanders over to Americana.
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Post by The Devil's Advocate on Jun 24, 2016 5:40:35 GMT
The feral skull on Morricone’s Beach Boy clicked and clacked in an almost joking manner, as the huckster himself sighed as everybody reacted like the whole drop pod was weaponized. “Oh man, this is typical - nobody trusts a man with a fishing rod anymore. I told you we were clear...” Shouldering his manitou and entering the cabin, Morricone lit another cigarette and spent some time looking around. “Alright… I like this thing. Love what you did with the place,” he said to the frozen woman, giving her finger guns. “Looking good, darling.”
Beach Boy never was very “precise”, if you could call it that way: it was a tactile and sensitive thing, yes, but one had to SEE to really experience something. The place was dark and metallic, and illuminated by small lightbulbs hidden in the floor, walls and ceiling, giving it a very sharp and streamlined look. In the back, he could see what appeared to be a modern weapon’s locker - pushing one button released steam and beeping sounds, and he backed away as the wall itself protuded into a weapon closet, so to speak: Morricone snorted when he found the weapons to be wonderfully retrofuturistic. Those blasters looked like they would have fit in a 1950’s science fiction movie, and he found himself liking Annabelle more, if only because of her aesthetic choices.
Morricone listened to the scanner, to the description of the drop pod’s inhabitant, to the choices - and before Senator could ask him his opinion, the Devil’s Advocate had already acted: he slammed his fist down on the “Yes” button, and turned to face the melting cryo. “I don’t think this is even an issue, Sena- err, John,” he said a little sheepishly. “We have a life in front of us that deserves being lived, why keep her frozen in there? Let’s see what happens. I don’t think she’s a bad person, and if she is…” He patted Beach Boy’s skull, which seemed to purr in pleasure, “I got this bad boy right here.”
Star Ryder, Senator
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Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars!~
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Post by Star Ryder on Jun 24, 2016 6:39:42 GMT
After Morricone would press the "Yes" button, the defrosting process had begun. A beam started at her feet and began to unfreeze her from her cold sleep. Once it had traced the very top of her head, what would appear to be green electricity suddenly shocked her. Now, her strawberry-blonde hair was evident, with her hair in two sort of reverse ponytails across her face. She wore a cowboy hat with a strange object on top of it, almost as though it was a type of retro-futuristic visor. She also wore cowboy boots and had multiple holsters on her belt, along with a spherical pouch. She was adorned in what appeared to be a rancher's outfit, only the material used to make the leather vest was definitely not from an earth cow. One leg seemed to be a bit more stiff than the other, and a few fingers showed signs of metallic materials. Her skin was a bit tanned with freckles lining her cheeks. As she opened her eyes, they revealed blue eyes as clear as blue as the Caribbean waters... Not that she had ever seen them before.
Annabelle was awake now... Where was she? This wasn't the ship? She groaned and put her hand to her head. That was one long nap...Where- She stopped and looked out in front of her. Some weird guy was holding a fishing rod and another person was wearing metal? WAIT WHAT THE HELL?! Annabelle saw the open weapons locker and dived inside and quickly shut the door behind her. What race of alien was that? Where was the crew? What happened?! A voice beckoned from inside of the pod. "Good Morning Annabelle. You have landed on Earth. Your original destination was... Xyrodia. You were knocked off course. The transcript is available on the escape log. The safety message was unable to reach your crew. All data has been transferred to your Dossier Board. Farewell." The ship would suddenly shut down and leave only the lights on. Annabelle quickly opened the door and snatched the screen that Morricone had touched to unfreeze her. That was her Dossier Board.
The soldiers of course instinctively raised their rifles as soon as she had bolted, but were issued another stand down order from the general. It appeared the other General was walking this way too now. "What the hell is going on over here? Haven't heard any gunshots, so is it an alien or not? Did you find your shit, Doctor Professor Smarty Pants?" General Phillips was obviously not happy about being awoken from his nap. "General Phillips, the only thing I'm interested in here is the ship itself. It's an ancient model, from what I can gather. The occupant, however, is a bit too... Human for Area 51 to handle." The Professor walked to the side and touched the ship. "This steel... It's absolutely amazing."
General Dewitt sighed and shrugged. "You see, I get assigned to these idiots... Anyways, Advocate, Senator. Like the man said, '51 ain't really gonna want to take a humanoid. Maybe you guys can do something with her at the Initiative if you can get her to come out. She seems a bit feral to me. Y'know, looney? I'll fill out the paperwork..."
Annabelle had slowly opened the door and gently poked her head out of the locker. Wait... Those trees... Was she back home? She shut the locker door back and made a few motions. The hologram was showing earth, but not the exact location. Hell, she couldn't make it out. She didn't know where she came from on a map. She breathed in a deep breath and slowly opened the lockers. They were humans too, right? "'S-scuse me... Y'all... Y'all know if we're in the United States of America- M-more specifically, Nebraska territory? I-I'm Annabelle..." She asked, the door barely open Good lord they were scary. Especially those guys with those guns- what were they using, gunpowder? She hadn't seen those since she'd left earth- Oh wait, she was back. Huh. How long had it been? Ten years? Hard to keep track in space... How were Ma and Pa doing?
Senator , The Devil's Advocate |
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Former mayor of the people.
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Jun 26, 2016 11:09:42 GMT
Post by Senator on Jun 26, 2016 11:09:42 GMT
He hissed at the soldiers pointing their guns, although the sound was barely audible. Dewitt told them to lower their guns, at least. Senator was glad there was at least one good man in the USA army at the moment. And to be honest, Phillips seemed like a decent person as well. At least he was someone who didn't care for bullcrap in the middle of work. His eyes turned from them to the confused Annabelle. She seemed to be constantly shifting from place to place, checking things and taking them, almost like a rat that had been awoken from a century or two long sleep. That was a bit of a rude comparison, he realized. He coughed when she finally spoke up to either them. Or the military personnel. Who knows which. "You're correct on our location, miss. United States of America, Nebraska territory. The summer's just starting, and the year is 2016." Hopefully revealing the accounts of the current year wouldn't make her too shocked. He looked over to Americana, quietly wondering if he was better at handling social situations of this caliber. If you could describe helping a han solo'd girl as a social situation. "We're here to help you, do not worry. I assume you must feel a bit... Confused, after a sleep that long." He looked over his shoulder at the soldiers who were still there. They wouldn't do much to help even if they weren't aiming their guns. And then back to the girl barely peeking out from her weapons locker, coughing to himself. "You can come out of there, by the by. I am fairly sure none of these fine gentlemen..." He looks over his shoulder at the soldiers again, sneering. Git out you gits. "Wouldn't shoot you. We're with an organization that means to do good for the whole world." Star Ryder , The Devil's Advocate |
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Post by The Devil's Advocate on Jun 28, 2016 2:01:09 GMT
Of course they wouldn’t take her. It was pretty logical - she was, all things considered, human, and as the scientist had said, every bit of tech was antiquated and coming from a race of aliens that had come instinct a century earlier. Which, when Morricone thought about it, was more than a little depressing: Of course, the girl was frozen and kept in a deep sleep, but spending that much time was depressing.
Morricone scratched his head and leaned closer to the gun rack, taking a puff out of his cigarette. Something about her seemed nice and gentle, and there was a pluckish naiveté that gave her blue eyes a spark, even if she was in unknown time and territory. “What the big guy said,” Morricone added after Senator had given his small speech. “Your drop pod had a crash course against… How is it in intergalactic lingo, Terra Sol? You’re back home, is what I’m trying to say.” He looked away for a while, and at the soldiers. “And what are you doing around again? Give us space. At least until we can get the poor girl out of here and give her a few helping hands.”
Of course, he had no real power over the military, being an unknown man in his thirties that had clearly never served. But he had angry eyes, and seemed to know what to do, so maybe…
Returning his attention to the girl, he smoked his smoke, and then looked at the gun she was holding: it was straight out of a 1950’s movie, and he couldn’t help but smile. The best way to connect with someone: talk about things they like, or own - and she’d gone straight for the small, handgun-like piece of retrofuturistic weaponry with the practiced ease of a trained marskman. “Oh man, this brings back memories. I used to watch movies about aliens or science fiction explorers back when I was a kid… This looks like one of the pistols I’d seen in one movie. They called it the…” He scratched his forehead and then laughed under his breath: “Radion Collider T-42, if I remember correctly. The actors used them to blow holes through the fake rocks of the filming sets.”
He looked up to the girl, and gave her a genuine smile. “S’that how this one handles?”
Star Ryder, Senator
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Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars!~
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Post by Star Ryder on Jun 28, 2016 2:45:03 GMT
 General Dewitt turned around and yelled at the men to be dismissed and head back to their tents. He turned his attention to the remaining scientist. "Listen, we're gonna go now. You guys are more than capable of handling this and we have paperwork to do for the transfer. Oh, and since your car got deer'd, we'll see if the Initiative can come pick ya up, yeah? Come on, Sir." Dewitt turned to General Phillips, who followed him back to base camp. Now they were all left alone.
Annabelle first turned her attention to the older man that addressed her first. He seemed a bit rough around the edges but was trying to coax her out, so that was something. Wait, what was she a space rat?! She closed the door and shook her head. "N-no thanks... I'm liking it in here... No offense to y'all..."
Suddenly morricone brought up the attention of her gun, to which she looked in her hand. Wait, she grabbed it? "Huh? You guys have these? But you guys were usin' gunpowder... This is a Chickok Mk. 35 Laser pistol. It's basically a six-shooter with an endless supply of laser bolts." She holstered it and grabbed a couple of guns and holstered them too. She also decided to grab the laser rifle too, since she may in fact need it later.
So, the Space Cowgirl opened the door and left the capsule. She was suddenly face to face with the two people that still remained. She looked over the older man and offered her hand out to him. "I'm Annabelle... Wait did I already say that. Being frozen is... Quite a thing. You're?" She then looked over at Morricone and cocked an eyebrow. "Wait a minute... You're Henry! Henry Morricone, right?! But wait... It's been... A really long time since I left earth, so there's no way you could be alive! What the hell's going on?" Come to think of it, her parents were probably already dead... She sighed at that thought... But what was Henry doing here? "Also, what's this Initiative those two keep talkin' about?"
Senator,The Devil's Advocate,
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Jul 31, 2016 11:56:07 GMT
Post by The Devil's Advocate on Jul 31, 2016 11:56:07 GMT
The girl was out of her hiding hole, and had walked out into view - and Morricone found her cute and adorable, in a way. She might have been armed to the teeth, but her zeerust, 1950’s scifi equipment only added to the cutesy image she gave off. And hell, once the brass had run off to their own affairs, Morricone himself felt relaxed and more at ease. Senator excused himself too, and he followed the military out of the ship, before patting The Devil’s Advocate’s shoulder, giving him a thumbs up as he left.
Morricone brushed his lock of errant hair off of his brow and tucked it behind his ear, and offered a smile as he let the darling Annabelle talk - and she WAS a darling. Nobody would’ve told anything different. She had a charm, even if she was currently out of her depths, a little something that inspired trust and friendliness. She then, seemingly out of nowhere, recognized him: and for the first time in this whole encounter, he didn’t know what to do.
“Err, well-”, Morricone started, stammering and nervously brushing the back of his head, the other holding the cigarette steady between two fingers. What had she called him… Henry? Henry Morricone, even, and he had to shake his family tree a little to see what kind of apple would fall.
“Oh! I know who you’re talking about! Henry Morricone. He traveled to the west to get to California, didn’t he? In this little circle-like organisation. He was a magician there! I guess he might have met you on his travels.” He added with a sheepish smile.
Morricone took a drag of his cigarette and finished it. Then, he concentrated, and blew out a smoke circle, through which he threw his will in the form of a small bunch of playing cards - where had they come from, his hands had been empty moments ago - and they sprouted hands and feet, dancing and singing nonsensical babble. "I think this used to be one of Henry's party tricks? These guys have their uses, and they're friendly enough."
“He had a son, Horace. That guy decided that he wanted to go east, and found Kingsport. And Horace was my great-grandfather. We all look the same. I’m the latest in the line, Ann. As for the Initiative,” he said, offering her a hand, "I can show you what it is, if you want. We're all for visitors."
Star Ryder
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