USCMRPG

The moment the word 'plague' came over the radio, Sal had the breather mask pulled over his mouth and was starting the cycling. Airborne plague in a space station. That's just shiny. "Damn, half right in the worst way." Sal muttered toward Sam. When Leon asked for masks over the comms, Sal chimed in...

Sal's finger tensed against the trigger guard, his rifle swept with his vision as he advanced with first squad. He scanned his sights over the doors, and the larger vents. Nothing popped out as 'wrong' at the moment, except perhaps for the total lack of 'wrong'. Everything looked, to Sal, clean and ...

Sal stepped off the drop ship and immediately his sense of nostalgia was replaced with disorientation. The landing pad wasn't one he was strictly familiar with. Maybe it had been upgraded in the intervening years, but it still wasn't a settling thought, he was going to be just as lost as anyone else...

Booth felt a sigh of relief leave his lips when the siren rang and when Eric slapped him on the back, he turned and slapped him on the back of his head. In a good natured way, it got the blood flowing and got a person revved the way annoying bells never did. Once the briefing came in Sal wanted to s...

Sal had let muscle memory see him through all the salutes and stances of standing in formation. His brain firmly focused on the planet below, with the occasional segue to Morse's state. The circumstances of his injury had been sudden, violent, quite possibly a consequence of leaked information. Now ...

Sal shook his head at Eric's claim. "You don't understand. You'll be happy to chug the military grade swill after you smell that stuff." He dried, dressed, and made for the mess and the food and coffee. Things could be worse, for all Sal knew, noone he'd known was still working on the station. It'd ...

Once the new Sarge had passed to check in on Morse, Sal had shifted and moved to shower up while the rest of the group woke up. It was still a reeling idea. Pluto. Fucking Pluto. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something anything. He heard Sam talking with the NCO's and rolled his shoulders...

O.O Pluto... why'd it have to be PLUTO.

PLUTO. When Sal had heard that they'd be attached to the Pluto base, his brain had gone into a cranial lock down. He had been virtually catatonic for the briefing, and as far as the rest of the Easy Eights could tell, the news had hit his mute button. He wanted to scream, but he'd forgotten he had a...

Did anyone level for the last drop? Sorry if it was answered somewhere else...

Blargh! Present and accounted for.

Did we level up, by the by?

WAGH

The APC looked like God's own anti-son-of-a-bitch machine roaring through the forest. Sal had to admit, if he had to go to Hell, riding in one of those would be preferable to dying in the sweat and the forest. When it slid to the stop and a soldier order them to pile in. "That's your cue, Morse." Sa...

*sets fire to Morse's booze*

There' that oughta make some noise.

At the threat of being stuck with Morse, Sal had to crack a smile. "Oo-rah, Sam. I fucking LOVE this job. Yep. Nothing like getting shot by chuck-fucks with stolen hardware and plagiarized manifestos. Only the best enemies for the best of the USMC." He did cock his head at a noise, just a random rou...