lavanderjasmine
Master of decoration
- Location
- R'lyeh
[X] "It's good to be here, sir. I can't just stand idle while our country's in danger." [Duty] Law
w
Persona 2041: The Long War [Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Quest]
- Thread starter theACEbabana
- Start date
- Location
- New York
[X] "Trust me, sir, when I say that I'm all that the recordclaims and much more." [Confidence] Neutral
- Location
- Elsewhere
Well...Now I feel inadequate...
VERY inadequate, awkward and insignificant.
Congrats.
Not voting now though.
Don't want to pick a side in the Law/Chaos/Neutral debate. We're gonna suffer all the same and kill someone we care about in the end, aren't we?
VERY inadequate, awkward and insignificant.
Congrats.
Not voting now though.
Don't want to pick a side in the Law/Chaos/Neutral debate. We're gonna suffer all the same and kill someone we care about in the end, aren't we?
Wouldn't be SMT otherwise.
Entry 002 - Settling In
theACEbabana
Sociopathic Shadowrunner
- Location
- Commonwealth of Virginia
You offer him a professional, but amicable enough smile as you shake his hand with a firm grip. The grips of his gloves chafe, but otherwise don't provide too much irritation to your bare skin. "It's good to be here, sir," You answer. "Can't just stand idle while our country's in danger."
+1 to Law
Hardin's grin comes back with a certain whimsy. "Good attitude, sense of duty, and best of all, a firm grip." He accentuates the end of his sentence by squeezing your hand one last time before retracting it. "You'd be surprised at how many folks I've met that can't give a decent handshake, even with the rest of these jarheads. It's unbecoming, honestly, but the brass isn't paying me to write the book of conduct.
"But be that as it may," He continues, raising a critical eyebrow towards you, "I've read the file, as well as the dossier for the Imitative. And while we may enjoy a less-than-formal relationship than most would with their officers, we're still running according to the book. One day, you'll have command of your own team, but until that day comes, I want you to follow my orders to the letter as long as you're my subordinate. We clear on that, Miller?"
The Torchlight Initiative. Sixty pages of government paper that outline the creation, training and deployment of Anti-Shadow Operatives across the country and all of its military branches. Of the Persona-users that were eligible to be drafted, only a select few were actually capable of holding their own in a fight, let alone complete a week of intensive basic. You're not the only kid in the nation's ROTC program that had a Persona, but out of all of them, you stood out the most. Hence the rapid transit to the American center of operations.
Five soldiers, three Persona-users. That was the ideal size of an Anti-Shadow Operations Platoon that the think tank came up with, with a designated User assigned as the second-in-command underneath the leader. Within three months, the hope is that the designated User would accumulate enough experience to be able to lead their own Anti-Shadow Operations platoon, only with the number of Users outweighing the vanilla soldiers.
You stand as one of ten designated Users to apprentice underneath an experienced field officer. And by privilege and proximity, you have received the dubious honor of placement in the 1st Anti-Shadow Operations Platoon. One day, the mantle of command will be yours to bear, and all the responsibilities that come with it. Not that it's going to happen for a while. When and when you've got the skills and experience will the brass place you in command of your own team.
But that is a big when, and far off as well. And in spite of mounting casualties, it's still too soon into the war to change it into "if", but that's quitter attitude. You aren't exactly the type to strut about with a perpetual smile on your face, but you're a far cry from a Debbie Downer.
"Crystal clear. Sir." You belatedly add.
The tension in the air immediately clears. The lieutenant nods, pleased at your understanding, before he motions for you to fall in line. "Glad to hear it. Now step up. The brass wants a demonstration of what we can do, so we're headin' out at one hundred hours. Two missions lined up they want…" He pauses at the surprise on your face. "Wait, they didn't tell you that? I just got the order this morning, and they said they sent it to you before I got it."
You shake your head, trying not to look too confused. "No, sir. If the order came this morning or late last night, then I don't think I was able to get it. Our convoy passed through a dead zone on the way up to D.C., up along Front Royal. The Blue Ridge Mountains buffer all signals something awful, sir."
"Of course…" Hardin sighs. "Still, better late than never. Okay, here's what's gonna happen. We're gonna drop your kit off at the barracks and head on over to mission control. I figure that since you and the other users are the reason this Platoon exists, you can choose the first mission. Hope you didn't have too much to eat for breakfast."
>11:36 Hours
>Saturday, August 31st, 2041
>24 Days to Full Moon
>Washington D.C., United States
The barracks, as it turns out, are a mish-mash of tents on green and pavement, as well as hastily-converted museum spaces. Paintings, sculptures and other odd trinkets of human history had been moved to the side, hastily if not too gently. Your inner historian winces at the sight of fractured paint frames and marble limbs, broken in the military's rush to clear space for the soldiers. Somewhere, somehow, you know that a curator is frothing at the mouth.
The Anti-Shadow Platoon has its own section away from the general area of the other branches. You recall coming to the Freer Gallery with your parents, when the paintings of Hokusai were on prominent display in 2034. Those paintings are gone, as are all the other exhibits, and what cannot be moved to the Smithsonian Vaults have been shrouded with tarpaulin. Their absences, rectangular patches of bright textile among unfaded wall carpet, are striking.
Your barracks are situated in the Chinese section of the museum, a whole five areas devoted to the Persona-Users. In the wake of the missing art, footlockers and cots have come to dominate the room. And if you squint past the darkness, you can see the beginnings of an impromptu shower at Gallery 18, and a mess hall in Gallery 13.
Currently, the barracks are empty, the only sign of occupation the belongings left behind. There are a few discrepancies to differentiate between their owners, something that would normally be forbidden in any other setting. Pictures of family, laptops, books, and even a guitar propped up against the wall. And then your heart sinks when you see the stuffed animal, a plush teddy bear, on the smallest cot in the room.
"Firearms practice," Hardin explains when you ask about the emptiness. "Most of the rookies have never fired a gun in their lives. They do alright in stationary practice, but their moving targets need some work. Which is why until I give my personal clearance, you guys aren't taking firearms into any missions."
You bristle at that, and he reconsiders. "Actually, that's incorrect. The majority of you won't. I know that you've got some experience under your belt, so you're clear. And a few others with prior training, but they're few and far between.
"But I'm getting off topic," He continues, waving the dispersion off. "Pick a cot and let's go."
>There are three cots available
>Pick a cot for yourself, the one next to a footlocker with…
[ ] A picture of family atop a trunk labeled "Dollman". [Lovers]
[ ] A guitar cleaning kit atop a trunk labeled "Hopkins". [Hanged Man]
[ ] A shrine to God atop a trunk labeled "Fischer". [Justice]
"One last thing," He says, holding a hand up before you can head out of the gallery. "Since we're trying to maximize space usage, the User barracks are unisex. Boys and girls together, a real high school slumber party, eh?"
His tone remains jocular, but his eyes harden slightly. "Now, I get that at your age, you guys get up to certain things and mischief. I certainly was like that at one point in my life, but this neither here or now. I gave my schpiel to the others when they got here a few days ago, and in the interest of saving time, I'll simplify it:
"Don't do anything stupid, or anything that can get you court-martialed. More than anything else, the morale of this Unit is paramount to its success. So if I hear as much as a tailwind of a rumor that someone's being harassed, bullied or, God forbid, otherwise assaulted in any way, shape or form…"
He leaves the sentence unfinished, and you have to swallow a lump in your throat as his eyes bore directly into your innermost soul. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir."
>11:45 Hours
Mission control is situated in the Commons, a bustling array of clerks and tables covered with papers and electronics. A perpetual cacophony, there's barely a moment where it's absolute quiet. Communications officers shout into comslinks, all the while as papers fly and computers hum underneath the ministrations of analysts and technicians. While the majority of the uniforms have Army patches and pins, you can make out a few other branches: Navy, National Guard, even the odd Air Force technician studying an air traffic radar.
A pair of stoic-faced infantrymen stands to attention at the entrance, letting you proceed only when you've flashed your I.D. You and Hardin pass on without further interruption towards what could only be the reception desk, if the haggard appearance of the receptionist and electronic bulletin board behind her are any indication.
"Name, rank, detachment, business," She mutters, the bags underneath her eyes visible as she blinks up at you. Army woman, and you notice the name "Brown" stitched onto the patch on her uniform. A blonde woman in her late twenties or early thirties, her strong jaw conveys physical prowess. "C'mon, I haven't got all day. Don't you know there's a war going on?"
Hardin snorts. "Second Lieutenant Hardin and Private First Class Miller. 1st Anti-Shadow Operations Platoon. We're here to register for one of the missions the brass has handed to us."
That has a noticeable effect. In an instant, she perks up, eyes widening as a second wind rushes through her with a speed no coffee could ever hope to match. "Oh, sir!" She half-shouts, straightening in her seat as best as she can. "Right, um, sorry about that, sir. Long night and everything, but I'm still good. Ready for action."
He turns to you, flashing a discreet amusement with a quirk of his mouth. "Alright, Miller. Go ahead."
You advance towards Brown's table, and try for a friendly smile. For a moment, you though that a flash of recognition shimmers in her eyes, but you blink, and it's replaced by the weary, but determined glint of an army soldier. "I was told there were missions?"
Brown nods, fiddling with the interface on the table. The board behind her whirs as it display changes from documents and logistical information into a map of Virginia and Maryland. "Yes. Two missions that our superiors want taken care of. You can do them in any particular order, but one has to be done today. That much is absolute."
"Alright," You nod. "What are the missions?"
"Let's see…" The map trills as zooms in, focusing on the immediate D.C. area. Crosshairs appear, and mark two areas, one within the city, and one outside along the highway. "Two missions: escort patrol and extermination. Name on the tin can and everything, but regulations state that I gotta give you the full details. So pay attention, kid, because I'm only gonna say it once.
"Escort patrol is simple enough," She explains, zooming in towards a slice of Route 495. "We've got refugees coming in daily from around the area, and our local National Guard is spread too thinly over the Delmarva Peninsula. So they're calling in for further support from the military proper. That's where you come in. The objective is to get as many civilians as you can into the city."
"As many?" You echo back.
Brown grimaces. "Shadows aren't the only threat that these people are facing, kid. The riots and looters after the Darkest Hour speech were bad enough, but open banditry in this day and age? People are desperate, and are more than willing to put their needs above others if the situation calls for it. It's downright nasty out there."
"Not to mention that our generals are still divided on how and where to deploy our troops," Hardin mutters. "And whether or not we should pull out of Korea and China, let alone other zones of conflict with the GDC."
She ignores that statement. "It's a big game of cowboy, only this time, the herd you're protecting is about…seventy five people. And the bandits are definitely shooting to kill, if not maim or kidnap for ransom."
…well then.
You take a moment to exhale, composing yourself before you gesture towards the other mission. "And the extermination task?"
The map on the board adjusts itself, zooming into the metro stop just outside of the Smithsonian. "Pest control, essentially," Brown states, taking a moment to clear her throat before continuing, "Shadows come out night, but if there's enough darkness, they'll stay instead of fading back to wherever the fuck they come from. Just as it happens, the little bastards have settled nicely into the metro stations.
"We've got control over Smithsonian, Metro Center, and most of the hubs, but we can't be sure about the in-betweens. They don't want to leave the refugees unable to fit in the Mall to hang out and dry, so that's where you come in. Long-term goal is to reclaim the Metro, but for now, one station today is good enough. Fantastic even."
She finishes her explanation, and you feel Hardin tap your shoulder. "So what's it gonna be, Miller?"
>Choose a mission
[ ] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellow citizens from these threats.
[ ] Extermination. The Metro is infested with Shadows, and are held at bay 24/7 by floodlights pouring into the subway entrances. Descend underneath the city and clear out their nests, one stop at a time.
+1 to Law
Hardin's grin comes back with a certain whimsy. "Good attitude, sense of duty, and best of all, a firm grip." He accentuates the end of his sentence by squeezing your hand one last time before retracting it. "You'd be surprised at how many folks I've met that can't give a decent handshake, even with the rest of these jarheads. It's unbecoming, honestly, but the brass isn't paying me to write the book of conduct.
"But be that as it may," He continues, raising a critical eyebrow towards you, "I've read the file, as well as the dossier for the Imitative. And while we may enjoy a less-than-formal relationship than most would with their officers, we're still running according to the book. One day, you'll have command of your own team, but until that day comes, I want you to follow my orders to the letter as long as you're my subordinate. We clear on that, Miller?"
The Torchlight Initiative. Sixty pages of government paper that outline the creation, training and deployment of Anti-Shadow Operatives across the country and all of its military branches. Of the Persona-users that were eligible to be drafted, only a select few were actually capable of holding their own in a fight, let alone complete a week of intensive basic. You're not the only kid in the nation's ROTC program that had a Persona, but out of all of them, you stood out the most. Hence the rapid transit to the American center of operations.
Five soldiers, three Persona-users. That was the ideal size of an Anti-Shadow Operations Platoon that the think tank came up with, with a designated User assigned as the second-in-command underneath the leader. Within three months, the hope is that the designated User would accumulate enough experience to be able to lead their own Anti-Shadow Operations platoon, only with the number of Users outweighing the vanilla soldiers.
You stand as one of ten designated Users to apprentice underneath an experienced field officer. And by privilege and proximity, you have received the dubious honor of placement in the 1st Anti-Shadow Operations Platoon. One day, the mantle of command will be yours to bear, and all the responsibilities that come with it. Not that it's going to happen for a while. When and when you've got the skills and experience will the brass place you in command of your own team.
But that is a big when, and far off as well. And in spite of mounting casualties, it's still too soon into the war to change it into "if", but that's quitter attitude. You aren't exactly the type to strut about with a perpetual smile on your face, but you're a far cry from a Debbie Downer.
"Crystal clear. Sir." You belatedly add.
The tension in the air immediately clears. The lieutenant nods, pleased at your understanding, before he motions for you to fall in line. "Glad to hear it. Now step up. The brass wants a demonstration of what we can do, so we're headin' out at one hundred hours. Two missions lined up they want…" He pauses at the surprise on your face. "Wait, they didn't tell you that? I just got the order this morning, and they said they sent it to you before I got it."
You shake your head, trying not to look too confused. "No, sir. If the order came this morning or late last night, then I don't think I was able to get it. Our convoy passed through a dead zone on the way up to D.C., up along Front Royal. The Blue Ridge Mountains buffer all signals something awful, sir."
"Of course…" Hardin sighs. "Still, better late than never. Okay, here's what's gonna happen. We're gonna drop your kit off at the barracks and head on over to mission control. I figure that since you and the other users are the reason this Platoon exists, you can choose the first mission. Hope you didn't have too much to eat for breakfast."
>11:36 Hours
>Saturday, August 31st, 2041
>24 Days to Full Moon
>Washington D.C., United States
The barracks, as it turns out, are a mish-mash of tents on green and pavement, as well as hastily-converted museum spaces. Paintings, sculptures and other odd trinkets of human history had been moved to the side, hastily if not too gently. Your inner historian winces at the sight of fractured paint frames and marble limbs, broken in the military's rush to clear space for the soldiers. Somewhere, somehow, you know that a curator is frothing at the mouth.
The Anti-Shadow Platoon has its own section away from the general area of the other branches. You recall coming to the Freer Gallery with your parents, when the paintings of Hokusai were on prominent display in 2034. Those paintings are gone, as are all the other exhibits, and what cannot be moved to the Smithsonian Vaults have been shrouded with tarpaulin. Their absences, rectangular patches of bright textile among unfaded wall carpet, are striking.
Your barracks are situated in the Chinese section of the museum, a whole five areas devoted to the Persona-Users. In the wake of the missing art, footlockers and cots have come to dominate the room. And if you squint past the darkness, you can see the beginnings of an impromptu shower at Gallery 18, and a mess hall in Gallery 13.
Currently, the barracks are empty, the only sign of occupation the belongings left behind. There are a few discrepancies to differentiate between their owners, something that would normally be forbidden in any other setting. Pictures of family, laptops, books, and even a guitar propped up against the wall. And then your heart sinks when you see the stuffed animal, a plush teddy bear, on the smallest cot in the room.
"Firearms practice," Hardin explains when you ask about the emptiness. "Most of the rookies have never fired a gun in their lives. They do alright in stationary practice, but their moving targets need some work. Which is why until I give my personal clearance, you guys aren't taking firearms into any missions."
You bristle at that, and he reconsiders. "Actually, that's incorrect. The majority of you won't. I know that you've got some experience under your belt, so you're clear. And a few others with prior training, but they're few and far between.
"But I'm getting off topic," He continues, waving the dispersion off. "Pick a cot and let's go."
>There are three cots available
>Pick a cot for yourself, the one next to a footlocker with…
[ ] A picture of family atop a trunk labeled "Dollman". [Lovers]
[ ] A guitar cleaning kit atop a trunk labeled "Hopkins". [Hanged Man]
[ ] A shrine to God atop a trunk labeled "Fischer". [Justice]
"One last thing," He says, holding a hand up before you can head out of the gallery. "Since we're trying to maximize space usage, the User barracks are unisex. Boys and girls together, a real high school slumber party, eh?"
His tone remains jocular, but his eyes harden slightly. "Now, I get that at your age, you guys get up to certain things and mischief. I certainly was like that at one point in my life, but this neither here or now. I gave my schpiel to the others when they got here a few days ago, and in the interest of saving time, I'll simplify it:
"Don't do anything stupid, or anything that can get you court-martialed. More than anything else, the morale of this Unit is paramount to its success. So if I hear as much as a tailwind of a rumor that someone's being harassed, bullied or, God forbid, otherwise assaulted in any way, shape or form…"
He leaves the sentence unfinished, and you have to swallow a lump in your throat as his eyes bore directly into your innermost soul. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir."
>11:45 Hours
Mission control is situated in the Commons, a bustling array of clerks and tables covered with papers and electronics. A perpetual cacophony, there's barely a moment where it's absolute quiet. Communications officers shout into comslinks, all the while as papers fly and computers hum underneath the ministrations of analysts and technicians. While the majority of the uniforms have Army patches and pins, you can make out a few other branches: Navy, National Guard, even the odd Air Force technician studying an air traffic radar.
A pair of stoic-faced infantrymen stands to attention at the entrance, letting you proceed only when you've flashed your I.D. You and Hardin pass on without further interruption towards what could only be the reception desk, if the haggard appearance of the receptionist and electronic bulletin board behind her are any indication.
"Name, rank, detachment, business," She mutters, the bags underneath her eyes visible as she blinks up at you. Army woman, and you notice the name "Brown" stitched onto the patch on her uniform. A blonde woman in her late twenties or early thirties, her strong jaw conveys physical prowess. "C'mon, I haven't got all day. Don't you know there's a war going on?"
Hardin snorts. "Second Lieutenant Hardin and Private First Class Miller. 1st Anti-Shadow Operations Platoon. We're here to register for one of the missions the brass has handed to us."
That has a noticeable effect. In an instant, she perks up, eyes widening as a second wind rushes through her with a speed no coffee could ever hope to match. "Oh, sir!" She half-shouts, straightening in her seat as best as she can. "Right, um, sorry about that, sir. Long night and everything, but I'm still good. Ready for action."
He turns to you, flashing a discreet amusement with a quirk of his mouth. "Alright, Miller. Go ahead."
You advance towards Brown's table, and try for a friendly smile. For a moment, you though that a flash of recognition shimmers in her eyes, but you blink, and it's replaced by the weary, but determined glint of an army soldier. "I was told there were missions?"
Brown nods, fiddling with the interface on the table. The board behind her whirs as it display changes from documents and logistical information into a map of Virginia and Maryland. "Yes. Two missions that our superiors want taken care of. You can do them in any particular order, but one has to be done today. That much is absolute."
"Alright," You nod. "What are the missions?"
"Let's see…" The map trills as zooms in, focusing on the immediate D.C. area. Crosshairs appear, and mark two areas, one within the city, and one outside along the highway. "Two missions: escort patrol and extermination. Name on the tin can and everything, but regulations state that I gotta give you the full details. So pay attention, kid, because I'm only gonna say it once.
"Escort patrol is simple enough," She explains, zooming in towards a slice of Route 495. "We've got refugees coming in daily from around the area, and our local National Guard is spread too thinly over the Delmarva Peninsula. So they're calling in for further support from the military proper. That's where you come in. The objective is to get as many civilians as you can into the city."
"As many?" You echo back.
Brown grimaces. "Shadows aren't the only threat that these people are facing, kid. The riots and looters after the Darkest Hour speech were bad enough, but open banditry in this day and age? People are desperate, and are more than willing to put their needs above others if the situation calls for it. It's downright nasty out there."
"Not to mention that our generals are still divided on how and where to deploy our troops," Hardin mutters. "And whether or not we should pull out of Korea and China, let alone other zones of conflict with the GDC."
She ignores that statement. "It's a big game of cowboy, only this time, the herd you're protecting is about…seventy five people. And the bandits are definitely shooting to kill, if not maim or kidnap for ransom."
…well then.
You take a moment to exhale, composing yourself before you gesture towards the other mission. "And the extermination task?"
The map on the board adjusts itself, zooming into the metro stop just outside of the Smithsonian. "Pest control, essentially," Brown states, taking a moment to clear her throat before continuing, "Shadows come out night, but if there's enough darkness, they'll stay instead of fading back to wherever the fuck they come from. Just as it happens, the little bastards have settled nicely into the metro stations.
"We've got control over Smithsonian, Metro Center, and most of the hubs, but we can't be sure about the in-betweens. They don't want to leave the refugees unable to fit in the Mall to hang out and dry, so that's where you come in. Long-term goal is to reclaim the Metro, but for now, one station today is good enough. Fantastic even."
She finishes her explanation, and you feel Hardin tap your shoulder. "So what's it gonna be, Miller?"
>Choose a mission
[ ] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellow citizens from these threats.
[ ] Extermination. The Metro is infested with Shadows, and are held at bay 24/7 by floodlights pouring into the subway entrances. Descend underneath the city and clear out their nests, one stop at a time.
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JoshieWoshie
Mister Doge
[X] A shrine to God atop a trunk labeled"Fischer". [Justice]
[X] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are and vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellowcitizens from these threats.
Because. Suffering.
[X] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are and vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellowcitizens from these threats.
Because. Suffering.
The Fourth Monado
S U B A R A S H I I
- Location
- Away
[X] A picture of family atop a trunk labeled "Dollman". [Lovers]
[X] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are and vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellow citizens from these threats.
[X] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are and vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellow citizens from these threats.
- Location
- Elsewhere
[X] A guitar cleaning kit atop a trunk labeled "Hopkins". [Hanged Man]
[X] Extermination. The Metro is infested with Shadows, and are held at bay 24/7 by floodlights pouring into the subway entrances. Descend underneath the city and clear out their nests, one stop at a time.
I get the feeling that the Extermination mission will be better on the long run.
[X] Extermination. The Metro is infested with Shadows, and are held at bay 24/7 by floodlights pouring into the subway entrances. Descend underneath the city and clear out their nests, one stop at a time.
I get the feeling that the Extermination mission will be better on the long run.
[X] A shrine to God atop a trunk labeled "Fischer". [Justice]
[X] Extermination. The Metro is infested with Shadows, and are held at bay 24/7 by floodlights pouring into the subway entrances. Descend underneath the city and clear out their nests, one stop at a time.
[X] Extermination. The Metro is infested with Shadows, and are held at bay 24/7 by floodlights pouring into the subway entrances. Descend underneath the city and clear out their nests, one stop at a time.
- Location
- Spess
[X] A guitar cleaning kit atop a trunk labeled "Hopkins". [Hanged Man]
[X] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are and vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellow citizens from these threats.
[X] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are and vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellow citizens from these threats.
- Location
- Just passing through.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] A picture of family atop a trunk labeled "Dollman". [Lovers]
[X] Extermination. The Metro is infested with Shadows, and are held at bay 24/7 by floodlights pouring into the subway entrances. Descend underneath the city and clear out their nests, one stop at a time.
[X] Extermination. The Metro is infested with Shadows, and are held at bay 24/7 by floodlights pouring into the subway entrances. Descend underneath the city and clear out their nests, one stop at a time.
[X] A guitar cleaning kit atop a trunk labeled "Hopkins". [Hanged Man]
[X] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are and vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellowcitizens from these threats.
A new Persona 2129 (well, 2041, but same setting) quest? Just when I thought I was out, it drags me back in. Seriously, though, I'm glad I saw this. You're a good writer, Kaz/theACEbabana, and this premise looks like it's going to be really fun.
[X] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are and vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellowcitizens from these threats.
A new Persona 2129 (well, 2041, but same setting) quest? Just when I thought I was out, it drags me back in. Seriously, though, I'm glad I saw this. You're a good writer, Kaz/theACEbabana, and this premise looks like it's going to be really fun.
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Entry 003 - Prelude to Deployment
theACEbabana
Sociopathic Shadowrunner
- Location
- Commonwealth of Virginia
Sorry this is late. My computer's been giving me problems and my courses for this semester are writing intensive. Sigh. Hopefully I can manage 300 words a day. Goal's set for 1 to 1.5 k words per update. Defintiely less when it comes to rapid combat.
======
[X] A picture of family atop a trunk labeled "Dollman". [Lovers]
[X] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are and vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellow citizens from these threats.
"Escort patrol," You answer, depressing the floating icon on the screen with the pad of your thumb. The interface chirps and hums as it accepts your fingerprint, registering the acceptance of the mission. "The Shadows are contained for the most part, right? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's still a problem, but the civilians come first as long as the Shadows stay in the underground."
Hardin nods, pleased with your decision. "Sound reasoning. While we can't jump to every request for escort, the threat the Shadows pose are minimal enough to delegate manpower to the evacuation effort. The Shadows can wait for tomorrow. Or tonight if we still have enough energy to brave the tunnels."
"Not that they're going to come out in broad daylight, either," Brown points out, receiving the tablet back from your hands. "Power's to the floodlights are still running, and we've got backups for our backups. We'll keep the base safe while you're gone."
With that, the exchange is over. You and Miller thank her for the quick exchange and make your exit from the Commons. This time, as you walk down the hallway, you can feel the pointed gaze of more than a few people on your back. Maybe they finally figured out who you were, either from overhearing the details of your mission, or finally realizing that you're a little younger than an overwhelming majority of the people stationed here.
"I thought you would've chosen to exterminate the Shadows," Hardin remarks as he steers you into the direction of the armory. "Most of the kids have been really itching at it to dive deeper into the tunnels. We aren't letting them go beyond the main hub of a given station, and all they get are the weakest of the bunch."
Mayas and Halberies, most likely. And at the worst, maybe a Table or a Pesce. Shadows that could easily be taken down by a civilian so as long as they were quick on their feet and had adequate weaponry. As well as ones that dropped items of a relatively lower quality.
It had been a surprise in the beginning, when you had blasted a Maya away with a Bufu spell only to find a bit of money and materials left over when the slime melted into nothing. The coins themselves were nothing that anyone could recognize, forged of no known metal on earth. But the world governments had been very interested at the materials the Shadows dropped. Body parts and other assorted items: stones that could heal or generate elemental blasts based on their color.
That had really thrown the world for a loop, especially the gaming community. The subject of "loot" still continues to be a meme, as well as a point of contention between militaries and research corporations. And with the bounty the two of them offered on any parts that anyone could bring in, there was little wonder why Persona-Users would be itching to go for stronger opponents, and the stronger materials they had. As well as the fact that fighting made one stronger.
"As mentioned earlier," You reply, stepping over a series of electrical cables, "It's the best choice that proves the most beneficial. The Shadows can wait. The civilians cannot."
"Not entirely wrong. Good reasoning even. But between you and me…"
He pulls you in, not roughly, and whispers in a pointed sotto. "The brass is hoping for us to find some more Persona users among the refugees. We've only got six users that are combat-ready for us to call on at any given moment. And sure, there's another ten down the line that will eventually finish their training, but…"
You don't need a further explanation. The reality of the situation is that no matter what you do, people are going to die. And without a constant stream of available recruits, the 1st is screwed. On one hand, you have to frown at President Heartman for amending his orders, raising the age of the User draft from twelve to fourteen and effectively cutting out a large demographic of Users to draw from.
But on the other, you're privately relieved that you're not about to watch preteens don Kevlar and head off into war. There's been enough child soldiers, those that had to fight in the war for the GDC, as well the ones that are actually allowed to go and fight against the Shadows. You may stand among the first, but by no means are you going to be the last.
On the subject of donning Kevlar, you finally make it to the armory, a series of interconnecting rooms on the second floor. Weapons lockers filled with every weapon you can possibly find lie open and waiting for you to take, from the old and about-to-be-phased out to the latest in military contracting and arms development. From a desk at the entrance, a clerk nods at your arrival, and waves for the guards to let you in.
Now, to choose the loadout best suited for the mission…
>Pick a weapons loadout.
>Personal customization and additional archetypes will become available later
>Guns read like this: Damage, Single Shot/Burst/Full-Auto/, Recoil Penalty, Ammunition (Dark Heresy 1st Edition)
>Melee Weapons are: Bash/Pierce/Slash
[ ] Assault
· Primary: FN S.C.A.R. [1d10 + 6 Damage, S/3/6, -5/-10/-15, 30 Ammo]
· Secondary: Beretta M9 [1d10 +2 Damage, S/3/-, 0/-5/-, 15 Ammo]
· Melee: Combat Knife [1d10 Damage, Slash/Pierce]
· Item #1: 3x Concussion Grenade [1d100 + 50 Chance to inflict Dizzy Ailment]
· Item #2: 3x Fragmentation Grenade [3d10 Untyped Physical Damage]
[ ] Support
· Primary: FN S.C.A.R. [1d10 + 6 Damage, S/3/6, -5/-10/-15, 30 Ammo]
· Secondary: Beretta M9 [1d10 +2 Damage, S/3/-, 0/-5/-, 15 Ammo]
· Melee: Expandable Baton [1d5 + 3 Damage, Bash]
· Item #1: 3x Nanopaste Medkit (Restores Health to full, Stabilizes Teammate)
· Item #2: 3x Smoke Grenade (+75 to Escape from Battle)
It takes you the better part of fifteen minutes for you to suit up, fumbling over buckles and other miscellaneous attachments that hang from your vest. Hardin nods when you finish, checking that you've got everything in place. With your bells and whistles secured, you follow him out of the armory.
As you exit out of the armory, he signals for you to stop. Reaching into his bag, he pulls out his phone, as well as a manila folder that he promptly thrusts in your direction. It's unmarked save for the prominent stamp of [FOR SENSITIVE EYES ONLY], with the only notable feature the papers contained within the folder.
"I know right?" He says with a wry expression, even as you tentatively receive the papers. "Paper, in 2041? Military's quick to adapt to new tech, but our archiving could use some work. Not everyone's compatible for neural implants, and people are still antsy about having chips in their skulls. Here, show me your phone."
You pull it out, the iPhone X-CEEDE, not the tenth in Apple's long (and "innovative") line of mobile devices, but a model that the military has a fondness of using. Your dad showed you his old phone from back in '16, and you couldn't believe the small amount of memory space, or how fragile the damn thing is. The phone in your pocket could easily survive a ten foot drop with only a few scratches, maybe small a crack if you were unlucky.
"I'm forwarding you the digital versions," Hardin continues, fiddling with his own phone before holding it up against yours. They hum as the data exchange begins, all while an animated progress bar marks the rate of transfer. "Just in case you want to read on the go."
They're already outfitted and ready to go by the time you arrive. There's a clear division between the experienced soldiers and the Persona-Users, both of whom have retreated to their own social circles. The three teenagers whisper in subdued tones, a stark contrast to the confident gait of the four military men. No, three men and one woman, you quickly correct yourself. The pixie cut of her hair and nonconforming body armor obfuscates her gender.
At the sight of the two of you they fall into line, standing at attention with practiced ease. Hardin waves for them to relax as he gathers his four members over with a "come here" gesture. They pass by you without as much as a second's hesitation, and you're quick to scan their appearances for an initial impression.
To your surprise, the soldiers with the Marine Corps patches are twins, sharing not only similar facial expressions, but patches as well. The Jackson brothers appear to be a Scout-Sniper team, if the scope and rifle are any indication. From the heavy ordinance slung across her back, you figure that the woman, one Army Sergeant Jimenez, specializes in heavy weapons. And the last of the bunch, Kilmer, adjusts a set of nanopaste canisters hanging at his belt, identifying him as a combat medic.
With that settled, you appraise your fellow Users, leaving Hardin to speak to his own part of the team.
Serenity Dollman. Lovers Arcana, Undine, age fifteen. In any other situation, you'd say she was cute, even with the equipment she's got strapped onto herself and the hair kept in a short cut. From the brief look at the dossier, she'd been one of the few people to get combat experience firsthand when the Shadows attacked. For most part, she's adopted an aloof demeanor, but her eyes reveal tension wound up like coil, primed and ready to strike at a given command.
Your eyes move onto the second of the users: Jason Fischer. Justice Arcana, Power, age seventeen. Records show him to be a year younger than you, but his face shows him as one unaccustomed to combat. An above-average student, he was a late awakener, with his Persona manifesting itself to save his life from a home invasion. A rosary dangles from his fingers, the wooden spheres for every prayer well-worn from years of use, and his face is the calm assurance of a man with God on his side.
Then the last one. Rory Hopkins of the Hanged Man, Persona Berith, age sixteen. Out of the assembled people, he's the one that doesn't look suited for war, with a slight build that looked fragile enough for a sneeze to bowl him over. Still, his Persona was the equalizer to his physicality, boasting a surprising amount of strength for someone with only four months of instruction. He tucks a map into his pocket, of which you can recognize as one for the DC Metro stations.
So, this is your first of the first. You concentrate, activating Jack Frost's ability to [Scan] the three of them in comparison to you. Dollman is the strongest of the trio, followed by Hopkins and Fischer. There not as powerful as you are, admittedly, but they do offer abilities to supplement your own and cover your weaknesses. Healing, Fire/Debuffs, and Lightning/Buffs. A wide range of abilities for you to draw and use in the field of battle.
You nod, deactivating Jack Frost as you step in front of them. They don't tense as much as they simply stop moving, matching your gaze with an equal amount of intensity.
>What tone do you take with them?
>First Impression will have an initial impact on relationships with subordinates.
[ ] Friendly. Make it clear that you're an approachable and warm person.
[ ] Serious. Establish yourself as one that commands professionalism.
[ ] Custom option.
======
[X] A picture of family atop a trunk labeled "Dollman". [Lovers]
[X] Escort Patrol. Refugees from the D.C. Metro area are coming into the city on a daily basis, and are and vulnerable to attacks from both Shadows and bandits. Protect your fellow citizens from these threats.
"Escort patrol," You answer, depressing the floating icon on the screen with the pad of your thumb. The interface chirps and hums as it accepts your fingerprint, registering the acceptance of the mission. "The Shadows are contained for the most part, right? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's still a problem, but the civilians come first as long as the Shadows stay in the underground."
Hardin nods, pleased with your decision. "Sound reasoning. While we can't jump to every request for escort, the threat the Shadows pose are minimal enough to delegate manpower to the evacuation effort. The Shadows can wait for tomorrow. Or tonight if we still have enough energy to brave the tunnels."
"Not that they're going to come out in broad daylight, either," Brown points out, receiving the tablet back from your hands. "Power's to the floodlights are still running, and we've got backups for our backups. We'll keep the base safe while you're gone."
With that, the exchange is over. You and Miller thank her for the quick exchange and make your exit from the Commons. This time, as you walk down the hallway, you can feel the pointed gaze of more than a few people on your back. Maybe they finally figured out who you were, either from overhearing the details of your mission, or finally realizing that you're a little younger than an overwhelming majority of the people stationed here.
"I thought you would've chosen to exterminate the Shadows," Hardin remarks as he steers you into the direction of the armory. "Most of the kids have been really itching at it to dive deeper into the tunnels. We aren't letting them go beyond the main hub of a given station, and all they get are the weakest of the bunch."
Mayas and Halberies, most likely. And at the worst, maybe a Table or a Pesce. Shadows that could easily be taken down by a civilian so as long as they were quick on their feet and had adequate weaponry. As well as ones that dropped items of a relatively lower quality.
It had been a surprise in the beginning, when you had blasted a Maya away with a Bufu spell only to find a bit of money and materials left over when the slime melted into nothing. The coins themselves were nothing that anyone could recognize, forged of no known metal on earth. But the world governments had been very interested at the materials the Shadows dropped. Body parts and other assorted items: stones that could heal or generate elemental blasts based on their color.
That had really thrown the world for a loop, especially the gaming community. The subject of "loot" still continues to be a meme, as well as a point of contention between militaries and research corporations. And with the bounty the two of them offered on any parts that anyone could bring in, there was little wonder why Persona-Users would be itching to go for stronger opponents, and the stronger materials they had. As well as the fact that fighting made one stronger.
"As mentioned earlier," You reply, stepping over a series of electrical cables, "It's the best choice that proves the most beneficial. The Shadows can wait. The civilians cannot."
"Not entirely wrong. Good reasoning even. But between you and me…"
He pulls you in, not roughly, and whispers in a pointed sotto. "The brass is hoping for us to find some more Persona users among the refugees. We've only got six users that are combat-ready for us to call on at any given moment. And sure, there's another ten down the line that will eventually finish their training, but…"
You don't need a further explanation. The reality of the situation is that no matter what you do, people are going to die. And without a constant stream of available recruits, the 1st is screwed. On one hand, you have to frown at President Heartman for amending his orders, raising the age of the User draft from twelve to fourteen and effectively cutting out a large demographic of Users to draw from.
But on the other, you're privately relieved that you're not about to watch preteens don Kevlar and head off into war. There's been enough child soldiers, those that had to fight in the war for the GDC, as well the ones that are actually allowed to go and fight against the Shadows. You may stand among the first, but by no means are you going to be the last.
On the subject of donning Kevlar, you finally make it to the armory, a series of interconnecting rooms on the second floor. Weapons lockers filled with every weapon you can possibly find lie open and waiting for you to take, from the old and about-to-be-phased out to the latest in military contracting and arms development. From a desk at the entrance, a clerk nods at your arrival, and waves for the guards to let you in.
Now, to choose the loadout best suited for the mission…
>Pick a weapons loadout.
>Personal customization and additional archetypes will become available later
>Guns read like this: Damage, Single Shot/Burst/Full-Auto/, Recoil Penalty, Ammunition (Dark Heresy 1st Edition)
>Melee Weapons are: Bash/Pierce/Slash
[ ] Assault
· Primary: FN S.C.A.R. [1d10 + 6 Damage, S/3/6, -5/-10/-15, 30 Ammo]
· Secondary: Beretta M9 [1d10 +2 Damage, S/3/-, 0/-5/-, 15 Ammo]
· Melee: Combat Knife [1d10 Damage, Slash/Pierce]
· Item #1: 3x Concussion Grenade [1d100 + 50 Chance to inflict Dizzy Ailment]
· Item #2: 3x Fragmentation Grenade [3d10 Untyped Physical Damage]
[ ] Support
· Primary: FN S.C.A.R. [1d10 + 6 Damage, S/3/6, -5/-10/-15, 30 Ammo]
· Secondary: Beretta M9 [1d10 +2 Damage, S/3/-, 0/-5/-, 15 Ammo]
· Melee: Expandable Baton [1d5 + 3 Damage, Bash]
· Item #1: 3x Nanopaste Medkit (Restores Health to full, Stabilizes Teammate)
· Item #2: 3x Smoke Grenade (+75 to Escape from Battle)
It takes you the better part of fifteen minutes for you to suit up, fumbling over buckles and other miscellaneous attachments that hang from your vest. Hardin nods when you finish, checking that you've got everything in place. With your bells and whistles secured, you follow him out of the armory.
As you exit out of the armory, he signals for you to stop. Reaching into his bag, he pulls out his phone, as well as a manila folder that he promptly thrusts in your direction. It's unmarked save for the prominent stamp of [FOR SENSITIVE EYES ONLY], with the only notable feature the papers contained within the folder.
"I know right?" He says with a wry expression, even as you tentatively receive the papers. "Paper, in 2041? Military's quick to adapt to new tech, but our archiving could use some work. Not everyone's compatible for neural implants, and people are still antsy about having chips in their skulls. Here, show me your phone."
You pull it out, the iPhone X-CEEDE, not the tenth in Apple's long (and "innovative") line of mobile devices, but a model that the military has a fondness of using. Your dad showed you his old phone from back in '16, and you couldn't believe the small amount of memory space, or how fragile the damn thing is. The phone in your pocket could easily survive a ten foot drop with only a few scratches, maybe small a crack if you were unlucky.
"I'm forwarding you the digital versions," Hardin continues, fiddling with his own phone before holding it up against yours. They hum as the data exchange begins, all while an animated progress bar marks the rate of transfer. "Just in case you want to read on the go."
They're already outfitted and ready to go by the time you arrive. There's a clear division between the experienced soldiers and the Persona-Users, both of whom have retreated to their own social circles. The three teenagers whisper in subdued tones, a stark contrast to the confident gait of the four military men. No, three men and one woman, you quickly correct yourself. The pixie cut of her hair and nonconforming body armor obfuscates her gender.
At the sight of the two of you they fall into line, standing at attention with practiced ease. Hardin waves for them to relax as he gathers his four members over with a "come here" gesture. They pass by you without as much as a second's hesitation, and you're quick to scan their appearances for an initial impression.
To your surprise, the soldiers with the Marine Corps patches are twins, sharing not only similar facial expressions, but patches as well. The Jackson brothers appear to be a Scout-Sniper team, if the scope and rifle are any indication. From the heavy ordinance slung across her back, you figure that the woman, one Army Sergeant Jimenez, specializes in heavy weapons. And the last of the bunch, Kilmer, adjusts a set of nanopaste canisters hanging at his belt, identifying him as a combat medic.
With that settled, you appraise your fellow Users, leaving Hardin to speak to his own part of the team.
Serenity Dollman. Lovers Arcana, Undine, age fifteen. In any other situation, you'd say she was cute, even with the equipment she's got strapped onto herself and the hair kept in a short cut. From the brief look at the dossier, she'd been one of the few people to get combat experience firsthand when the Shadows attacked. For most part, she's adopted an aloof demeanor, but her eyes reveal tension wound up like coil, primed and ready to strike at a given command.
Your eyes move onto the second of the users: Jason Fischer. Justice Arcana, Power, age seventeen. Records show him to be a year younger than you, but his face shows him as one unaccustomed to combat. An above-average student, he was a late awakener, with his Persona manifesting itself to save his life from a home invasion. A rosary dangles from his fingers, the wooden spheres for every prayer well-worn from years of use, and his face is the calm assurance of a man with God on his side.
Then the last one. Rory Hopkins of the Hanged Man, Persona Berith, age sixteen. Out of the assembled people, he's the one that doesn't look suited for war, with a slight build that looked fragile enough for a sneeze to bowl him over. Still, his Persona was the equalizer to his physicality, boasting a surprising amount of strength for someone with only four months of instruction. He tucks a map into his pocket, of which you can recognize as one for the DC Metro stations.
So, this is your first of the first. You concentrate, activating Jack Frost's ability to [Scan] the three of them in comparison to you. Dollman is the strongest of the trio, followed by Hopkins and Fischer. There not as powerful as you are, admittedly, but they do offer abilities to supplement your own and cover your weaknesses. Healing, Fire/Debuffs, and Lightning/Buffs. A wide range of abilities for you to draw and use in the field of battle.
You nod, deactivating Jack Frost as you step in front of them. They don't tense as much as they simply stop moving, matching your gaze with an equal amount of intensity.
>What tone do you take with them?
>First Impression will have an initial impact on relationships with subordinates.
[ ] Friendly. Make it clear that you're an approachable and warm person.
[ ] Serious. Establish yourself as one that commands professionalism.
[ ] Custom option.
Additionally, I've been doing some in-city research for the Metro subways, riding the lines from one end of the other to determine which stops are underground and which ones are exposed to sunlight. I'm OCD when it comes to the little details. And shit out of money because of it. Metrofare is expensive as hell.
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[X] Support
Backup medic is always useful. Also Bash damage, probably rarer to find someone else using it.
[X] Serious. Establish yourself as one that commands professionalism.
Going to want the less experienced ones to get used to working under command.
Backup medic is always useful. Also Bash damage, probably rarer to find someone else using it.
[X] Serious. Establish yourself as one that commands professionalism.
Going to want the less experienced ones to get used to working under command.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Support
We've already committed to team support, shouldn't stop now. Keeping our team alive and effective is gonna be the focus of our superior experience.
[X] Friendly. Make it clear that you're an approachable and warm person.
This is Persona. We may not be a Fool, but our bonds are our strength. Jacob is the Magician Support with scanning, healing, and support on Jack Frost of all things, so hardass doesn't seem like a great team building tactic. Lovers and Hanged Man will probably respond better to it too.
We've already committed to team support, shouldn't stop now. Keeping our team alive and effective is gonna be the focus of our superior experience.
[X] Friendly. Make it clear that you're an approachable and warm person.
This is Persona. We may not be a Fool, but our bonds are our strength. Jacob is the Magician Support with scanning, healing, and support on Jack Frost of all things, so hardass doesn't seem like a great team building tactic. Lovers and Hanged Man will probably respond better to it too.
JoshieWoshie
Mister Doge
[X] Support
[X] Friendly. Make it clear that you're an approachable and warm person.
[X] Friendly. Make it clear that you're an approachable and warm person.
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The Fourth Monado
S U B A R A S H I I
- Location
- Away
[X] Support
[X] Friendly. Make it clear that you're an approachable and warm person.
[X] Friendly. Make it clear that you're an approachable and warm person.
