Turn 1

[maxvale76]

Smiling back at the slightly shorter Scarlet (OOC: Sam's only 5'7" and Scarlet is 5'4" so Hall is only 3 inches taller), Hall replied; "I'm from New Kingston, a colony world settled by people from the Carribbean. I guess they brought their accents with them"; she answered her new squad-mate's question.

Speaking of accents, an accent that had always kind of grated on Sam's ears was the Earth Southern-U.S. accent*, which rang out from another new female member of the platoon whose nametag read 'Bradford'. Still, one couldn't help one's accent and Sam thought there were probably plenty of people that didn't like hers, so she wouldn't let her affect her judgement of the new marine. Then the SGT mentioned PT and Hall groaned, but dutifully rounded up her squad and made sure they were all accounted for when PT time came.

"First squad ready Sarge"; Hall said to Jacobson, doing her best to hid her distaste for unit PT activities. Sam had never minded working out, she just wasn't a fan of doing it in a group, she much preferred to work out her own way, at her own pace.

<Tag 1st Squad>
<Tag SGT Jacobson>

*Nothing personal meant....in real life I find the southern accent harsh on my ears but enjoy a Scottish accent which is one I know many people don't care for. In a different game, I used to know someone who ran a Southern U.S. character and would always throw things in like '-he said with a charming southern accent that felt like smooth whiskey'.....it NEVER dawned on him that some people might NEVER equate that accent with being smooth. Apologies in advance if Caribbean accents annoy you (or anybody else on these boards for that matter)...and I say anything similar.

[Quicksilver]

By the time Sam hand found him, Mark was considering this particular reanimate on cycle rather successful. The dark glasses he'd left next to the cryotube were still there, and he'd managed to find them without opening his eyes. He'd found the pain pills and water just as easily. He was still in the process of cutting open marine coffee packets and pouring them into his mini espresso maker. Then PT came up.

Mark was no more enthusiastic for the upcoming PT then Sam was. He was stiff from the cryo, his head and eyes still hurt and he wanted coffee more than almost anything, but the order had come down to attemd PT and that is what he was going to do. The dedication had pushed him through basic, and compared to that post cryo warm ups were simple. He just wished he'd had another ten minutes.

Sunglasses still tightly wrapped to his eyes, he joined the rest of the Marines waiting for the PT to start all while trying to stretch enough not to end up injured from whatever they were made to do.

[Pale Rider]

The Easy Eights fell into place awaiting the grueling workout that would get their blood flowing and their muscles singing.
Sergeant Jacobson, was returning from a jog around the track when the Peterson took his place in the ranks. “Peterson, you got Latrine Duty for being the last one in line. We are going to start out with some dynamic movements and stretching. On my mark let’s begin.” Yakov began to stretch with the group. After 15 minutes of stretching they ran three laps around the perimeter of the hanger for a total of 1 mile. This was followed up with:
(1) 8 sets of 5 pull ups; 10 Dips; and 20 push-ups
(2) 6 sets of Kettle bell Swings @ 2 minutes Rest @ 20 seconds in between sets.
(3) Ruck 3 miles w/ 50+ pound weighted pack.
(4) 1 set each: 100 lunges, 100 body weight squats, 100 sit ups, 100 jump squats, 100 push-ups, and 100 flutter kicks

While they were taking their 10-minute cool down, the Sergeant briefly ran over what he knew about the planet and its indigenous lifeforms. “Tartarus is an extremely fertile world, with thousands of species of plant and animal hybrids that use the sun's energy and the rich carbon dioxide/oxygen atmosphere for growth.” He paused allowing that to sink in.
“Tartarus was discovered only a generation ago, but it presented itself as Habitable without having to use the usual equipment for terraforming. An unusual feature of Tartarus is its rotation, which is perpendicular to its orbit. It takes 40 years to complete its orbit around the sun, so it has a 20-year day and a 20-year night. The constant sunlight of this extended day produces a vibrant and diverse ecosystem. On the night side there is little life, and the world waits for day to return . There are three major continents on Tartarus, only one of which is currently in daylight and which is colonized. Our mission is to figure out why one of the colonies missed its reporting date.” Standing up from where he had been squatting he turned and looked at each and every marine arrayed before him. “Go clean up and grab some chow. LT wants to us in the ready room by 0800 hours,” glancing at his watch he continued, “that gives you roughly 45 minutes to get it in gear. Dismissed”

[Apachetear]

The ship felt cold and strange, but familiar too.

Easing out of the pod, he scratched his jawline through his beard. Patting his pockets, he soon produced a cigarette...then a lighter.

There was a hiss nearby. Something routine and mechanical. Still, his head whipped round to the source of the noise. Deep breaths. Approaching the cafeteria, he reached for the coffee.

The faces he saw, some where new and some were familiar. Though the familiar faces were different, weathered, haunted. He imagined his own would be too. It had taken a long time for him to be fit for service. It had been a constant battle for him. Between the horror of what he had seen and the guilt for leaving others to fight them he had slowly managed to overcome the one feeling. Now he had to deal with the other...
***
The PT was annoying, a protocol where everyone would much rather be slowly returning to life.

He listened to the brief on the planet. The world washed over him, and he felt like he'd never been away...but also like a detached spectator.

[Morse]

PT was not always required straight out of the can, but it did not bother Morse. They had long since been capable of completing the basic muscle strengthening exercises, and it was probably good for them. Morse has all sorts of suspicions about the degeneration that happened to an individual in Cyrosleep, though his complaints and requests for information would either go unheard or yield a response too complex for him to understand. So he ran, and pushed, and slogged like everyone else until they were finally given a short briefing on the planet.

It sounded like the usual unholy hell show that was planets other then Earth. Crazy day and night cycles, strange atmospherics, and a perfect spot for Weyland-Yutani or one of the other megas to build a habitat on.

The fact that it had gone still left Morse hoping that it was nothing. Because if it was something it was likely independents or separatists, and they often had enough hardware to do some actual damage. And as fun as the idea was of a platoon of less then twenty putting down a colony of insurrectionists, he was growing weary of watching the new ones get cut to pieces.

A quick rinse off and fixing, and Morse was in the armory.

He was back in his boots and M2 Flak Vest and slowly began assembling his excessive amount of equipment. He considered the necessity of various forms of grenades, though always wound up sticking to smoke and frag.

Finally he wound up assembling his prize, the battle worn M52 Smartgun which he'd carried for years. The Confederate Flag proudly displayed, covered in writing such as "Shredder", with a dragon charm hanging off the barrel, and various leather wraps on the handles and wiring.

As Morse snapped the weapon together he was left with a quandary. "Think I can snag a few of the CN-20s this time?" Morse asked regarding the use of Nerve Gas grenades. He was always finding ever more lethal ways to handle a mission, but sometimes bullets just weren't enough.

< Tag Anyone

[Corporal Hicks]

Eric Roberts glanced at a few of the new marines, then he did a double take. A face that seemed to him from a previous life. "Sarge? Is that you?" he said to Honeysett. "I'll be damned! What are you doing here?! It must be what... eight years?" For a moment, Eric wondered if Honeysett would remember him. Then he remembered how much Honeysett cared about his men, no matter how green they were. He was Roberts' first NCO and first real role model in the Corps. His mind flashed back to the first time they met, the morning that Private Ronald Green shot himself in the latrines. Not a happy memory, nearly ten years ago now.
<Tag Honeysett>

Roberts did the PT without complaint. He had persevered through worse. Afterward he took a quick shower and went to the armory to get his smart-gun ready. When Morse mentioned the CN-20 nerve gas, Roberts nodded. "Not a bad idea, Morse. I don't think I can lug as much shit into combat as you can." He chuckled at his own joke.
<Tag Morse>

[Apachetear]

Eric Roberts glanced at a few of the new marines, then he did a double take. A face that seemed to him from a previous life. "Sarge? Is that you?" he said to Honeysett. "I'll be damned! What are you doing here?! It must be what... eight years?" For a moment, Eric wondered if Honeysett would remember him. Then he remembered how much Honeysett cared about his men, no matter how green they were. He was Roberts' first NCO and first real role model in the Corps. His mind flashed back to the first time they met, the morning that Private Ronald Green shot himself in the latrines. Not a happy memory, nearly ten years ago now.
<Tag Honeysett>

It had been a long time. Jacob smiled and nodded. "not Sarge, just Smiles" he said, his voice quiet, not the loud person he once was. It was all...strange.

He remembered Roberts' first mission with the eights. He'd been the Sarge then, he'd led his men into tunnels of death. Defended a firebase from Xenos for hours. He'd been good at it, and he liked to think he'd done a good job. Yet the deaths of those under his command has weighed heavy upon him. A psych Eval after failing a drugs test, that had been the moment. The moment he breathed out and let all that he'd seen, repressed, spill out. He'd been put on leave, and that had turned into a life of depression pills and grey fogs of numb boredom.

Eventually, the USCM had declared him fit for service. He had requested boot camp again. To start from scratch. After breaking like that he felt he needed to earn his place back again. He had trained, gotten fit again, done a few missions with other outfits, normal squads...not Xeno fighters...and a few more forms had been ticked. Then, cryo sleep...and now here.

He blinked and shook his head. It was all surreal. "yeah, long time. I had some...problems." he didn't know how to say any of it. "you guys must have been through hell since I last saw you...Sorry I left y'all t'suffer it without me..." he lit a cigarette.

His armour was the same suit he'd had since he enlisted. It was worn and battered, it no longer bore all the smily faces he'd collected, having been washed when he went to boot. But it fit him like a soul, and he wasn't getting reissued shit.

He started performing weapons checks and making sure he was combat ready physically. He would have to wait until planetary, until he one day saw those black armoured things, to see if he was ready mentally, emotionally.

<Tag Roberts>

[Morse]

Morse had not even been aware of their additional man for the line. He had thought that the platoons has been squared away and rationalized he'd meet any new arrivals after they got to the planet. That was the way it usually went, learn the names of people who's names were worth knowing. There were even Dead Shots that he had no recollection of at that point. When your brain had been so overstimulated as that, there was nothing that you could really do to cope with it but try to blank out some of the bad parts. He did not go out of his way to forget, but his drinking certainly helped.

Yet here stood a skeleton. A ghost. An image that could only be a figment of Morse's imagination.

Honeysett, in the flesh, and not looking half as mad as he used to.

"God's ball...." Morse exclaimed as he wrapped his mind around the fact that he was standing there. He came over, still assembling his 56 Smart Gun, and applying as much gear as possible to himself. He looked him over, and immediately ran with his first thoughts. "I thought ems' up top sent ya back down to Earth, to git yer'..." Morse tapped on the side of his head to imply he needed his head fixed. "You know." Morse cocked his head. "What happened? Figured they can't it back together'n sent ya back to a place where yer useful?"

Before the answer came back, Morse looked around to find his squad. "Yo Dirk, Dead Shots!" He cried out. "The Wiley Mr. Smiley's back here'n the flesh." Morse began to laugh. "Guess we can say fer sure this shit aint a rescue."

Any sensitivity towards Honeysett's condition, if there was any to be had, was lost on Morse. He had his own problems, and they tended to blind him from the feelings of others.

< Tag All

[Apachetear]

"God's ball...." Morse exclaimed as he wrapped his mind around the fact that he was standing there. He came over, still assembling his 56 Smart Gun, and applying as much gear as possible to himself. He looked him over, and immediately ran with his first thoughts. "I thought ems' up top sent ya back down to Earth, to git yer'..." Morse tapped on the side of his head to imply he needed his head fixed. "You know." Morse cocked his head. "What happened? Figured they can't it back together'n sent ya back to a place where yer useful?"

Before the answer came back, Morse looked around to find his squad. "Yo Dirk, Dead Shots!" He cried out. "The Wiley Mr. Smiley's back here'n the flesh." Morse began to laugh. "Guess we can say fer sure this shit aint a rescue."

Any sensitivity towards Honeysett's condition, if there was any to be had, was lost on Morse. He had his own problems, and they tended to blind him from the feelings of others.

< Tag All

Somehow, Jacob was unsurprised Morse was still here. A Born survivor if ever he'd known one. He looked worn, the survival must have come at a cost.

"been a long road, but they fixed me up enough for here at least" he laughed. "missed anything good?" another beep from a machine somewhere made his head whip to the source of the noise. He looked back slowly, his gaze lingering a while. "always think it's something in the wall or something." he explained casually.

<Tag Morse>

He turned to the man Morse had shouted to. "Dirk" he threw a casual salute. "good to see you're still here, might have sucked a bit for you at times though..."

<Tag Dirk>

Another cigarette appeared. It was lit soon enough, and Jacob smoked it. His eyes darted to any noise that occurred.

[Dirk Pitt]

Dirk heard Morse speak and turned to see the smiling face of his former Seargent. It had been many years sense he had seen the man. When Dirk was a fresh faced young Marine smartgunner not sure of what combat was like or the things that were really out there. The first thing he noticed was that the smiles that adorned his armor were now gone. His hand instinctively moved over the cuts that he had sliced into his arm, a lasting reminder of every Marine he had lost under his command and a punishment for his inability to bring them home.

Taking the ever present cigarette from his mouth he walked over to the man, his Cleaned and oiled M41A carried over his shoulder.

"Damn Smiles, it's good to see you back here. I always thought you had become a gigolo or something." He said a slight smile
<Tag Smiles>

"How about this shit Morse." He said motioning to Smiles." Looks like we got the man himself back with us."
<Tag Morse>

[Morse]

Though Honeysett was there in the flesh, and not looking at all like his former self, the tic in his nerves to check the wall was still present. They all had something like that, and focused it on different elements. Morse had opted for hyperactive suspicions, which were mostly directed at things he considered could be the enemy. Colonists and Robots were what fit mostly on that category.

For the rest of him though, there was not much similarity. To Morse it appeared for a moment like they'd pumped him full of anti psychotics, which may not have been a bad thing. Though crazy went a long way in a real fight, in a prolonged combat arrangement it tended to be a liability. Honeysett never quite got to that point, though dipping his fingers in blood all the time was not exactly the best for the morale of those around him.

"You know the Corps, Smiley." Morse answered him. "You didn't miss much. Just a lotta death n' dumb shit."

< Tag Honeysett.

Morse looked to Dirk after his additions. He did agree to the quality of the individual that had returned to them.

"S'good thing." Morse pointed out. "If there recycling ones's old as him, then were still more cost effective then a batch a kill bots." Morse shifted his hands to support the M56 Smartgun, to mockingly rub them together. "Job security at it's finest." He grinned at his dark commentary of their situation.

< Tag Dirk.