May 8th, 2025
75th Ranger Regiment HQ, Fort Benning, Georgia
Office of Colonel Mark Lucas - 0553

Colonel Lucas sighed and placed the dossier on his desk along with the other five. Not that he had needed to read it again - he had been familiar with the contents for the past thirty-six hours; he simply wanted one last walkthrough before meeting the individuals described in the documents. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he mused over the contents.

When he had first received his commission, some twenty odd years ago, women were strictly noncombatants, save the odd aircraft pilot. Now, he was about to send two - fully one thrid of the team - into a situation where they might be asked to take lives in the name of their country. The number of females in combat roles was still much lower in proportion to males - to say nothing of those in special forces combat roles, due to the physcial requirements - but those numbers were growing every year.

Lieutenant Williams stuck his head in the door and Lucas nodded. "Send them in, Jay." Moments later, six individuals outfitted in the desert camo pattern still favored by the Army filed in and snapped to attention.

Colonel Lucas rose. "As you were. Thank you for coming, rangers." He spoke with the slightest of smiles behind his eyes as he surveyed the soldiers. Naturally, they had filed in by rank.

The tall, muscled man on the far left would be Lieutenant Montgomery Kernan - that one would make captain shortly, Lucas had no doubt. Next to him would be Chief Warrant Officer (two) Charlene Blake - the techie who got away with all but murder, discipline-wise in Lucas' opinion, though the Colonel had argued for her inclusion due to all she brought to the table, anyway. Almost as tall, and even more muscular that the lieutenant, was Staff Sergeant Jeremiah Kane - a career ranger and a decorated leader in his own right. Noticeably smaller than the two other men thus far was Sergeant James Lee - obviously of Asian descent. A fuzz shorter than Lee was corporal Richard Hatherford, the sharpshooter of the lot. Finally was the other female of the team, corporal Inga Bjornnsen, the medic.

"Before we begin," Lucas spoke, "understand that the intel you are about to hear is Top Secret. Furthermore, you have all been handpicked to participate in this operation. I am obgligated to tell you that this mission is likely to be quite hazardous, and as such, is strictly volunteer. Therefore, if you so desire, you may turn around and walk out that door right now and return to your posted assignments, and no one will say a word to you. Any takers?"

GM's note: assuming not, since you want to play...
The colonel waited several moments before speaking again. No one flinched - not that he had expected them to. They were rangers, after all. "Very well. Fifty-three hours ago, we lost all contact with Antarctic Research Facility thirty-six." Lucas pressed a button on a small device in his hand, and a map of Antartica lept into view on the wall nehind his desk.

"As you can see," he explained, gesturing to a highlighted area, "unlike most stations, ARF36 is located well inland. This provides a great deal of isolation for Project Twilight Seed. Doctor Alexander Giles is a civilian scientist on contract by the United States government to head up Project Twilight Seed, which deals with some important breakthroughs in quantum physics - breakthroughs that the government feels are of critical military application."

The display shifts to a distorted image of a small compound set among the icy wastes. "This is a satellite image taken yetserday. From what we can tell, the station appears to be intact, but the satellite positioning prevents us from obtaining better images." He shakes his head. "The last contact received from ARF36 indicated a disaster of some sort, but we lost communications before we could get specifics, and all attempts to contact the station have failed."

The colonel kills the image. "Your primary objective will be to travel to ARF36 and ascertain the status of the station. If Doctor Giles - and the station crew - are alive, you are to assist in their extraction. If not, you are to recover any and all materials and intelligence related to Project Twilight Seed, so that we can determine what happened, and glean whatever useful information possible."

Lucas paused one more time. "We do not anticipate you meeting any sort of armed resistance - however, we cannot rule out that the security of ARF36 may have been compromised, and a hostile foreign government could be responsible for the situation - so be prepared for anything. You have full authorization from the President of the United States of America to take whatever actions you deem necessary to complete this mission. Any questions?"

Insert them here. We'll post as needed.
"Very well, then. Your flight leaves at 1000 hours - grab a bite to eat, get your gear, and be ready to go, rangers. Good luck. Dismissed."

Monty had woken early, as was always the case, and had gone through his routine of exercises with the efficiency of habit. He'd dressed in his neatly pressed uniform, made sure his Velcro patches were properly in placed as he inspected his appearance in front of the bathroom mirror and then stared into his own hazel eyes. There was an expression of seriousness about his face, but his eyes shown through like windows to his soul: excitement, anticipation, laughter... He'd received the docket containing the basics mission information the afternoon before while leaving the rifle range--delivered by a young private who looked intimidated to be in the presence of a Ranger. It had been simple information; a volunteer mission that involved hazard pay. He was to show up in Colonel Lucas' office the next morning bright and early for a briefing.

There'd been many of these types of missions over his career, and Monty had volunteered for every one he could. He thrived on the adrenaline that accompanied the moments just before insertion, the pounding of his heart reminded him of just how alive he was. He'd often heard of adrenaline junkies who needed that rush to confirm they were alive, and he'd dismissed them as fools. When bullets were flying and dusting the ground all around you; mortality was only too close. Monty had never needed the adrenaline to remind him that he was alive--he used it to remind him not to take life for granted.

Raking his hand through his nearly shaved brown hair, the ranger settled his BDU cap on his head and took one last look at himself before allowing a quick smile to flash, white in the tanned flesh of his face. Turning sharply on his heel, the soldier made his way from his apartment to the street where, in the cool of the morning, he hoofed it to the command offices.

As was his MO, Monty arrived fifteen minutes early. He didn't take a seat in the waiting room where a Lieutenant had met his arrival with a nod and then had gone back to his duties. No, Monty rarely sat when he could stand. Now, he studied a painting of horses racing across a brown field that hung between two windows overlooking the exercise field outside of the command office where hundreds of soldiers were gathering in their platoons for their morning maneuvers. The scene reminded him of a life he'd left behind, long ago.

Slowly, the others he assumed would be a part of the team arrived, and Monty quickly realized he was the ranking officer. He greeted every one of them with a nod and a shake of the hand once the saluting was over with. Of all of them, the one who caused him to raise his brow was a female wearing a plaid skirt over black leggings... completely out of uniform. If the Colonel had asked her here then Monty wouldn't question it. Hell, he didn't even know if she were military. He was sure it would all be explained when they'd had their briefing.

Eventually, the lieutenant at the desk got up and checked with the Colonel to see if he was ready, then ushered them into the room. Monty went to the seat that had been indicated and reluctantly planted himself in it: he'd, again, preferred to stand, but when a colonel of the U.S. Army told him to do, he did.

The Colonel went through the standard greeting for this type of meeting, a greeting that covered the responsibility of their ranks and positions, then went right into the meat of it. Monty listened very carefully and when the Colonel offered up the floor, the 1st Looey gave a brief nod.

"Actually Sir, I do have some questions." When the Colonel had acknowledged him, Monty continued, and despite his clear, concise way of speaking, a hint of a Western drawl could be heard. "Where will our LZ be? Right on the facility's tarmac, or are we hoofing it in a ways? Are there any known hostiles in the area? What kind of security does the R&D facility have? What kind of communication do we have at our disposal? Is everything at the complex associated with Project Twilight Seed, or are we going to have to determine what's what once we secure the facility? And lastly, what's our plan of extraction and clock?"

Charlie had tried to wear her uniform, really she did. It was just so…so drab and so green and all and looked like everyone else’s uniform that she felt her soul shrinking as soon as she put it on. She knew she’d lose herself if she wore it for any length of time and so most of it lay crumpled in the bottom of her locker.

The camo jacket had shown some potential, once she tailored it to fit her better. She’d removed the collar so that her dog collar’s spikes wouldn’t catch on it, and fixed the ragged edges with duct tape, darkening the tape with black permanent marker. She bleached the back panel so that the camouflage pattern was just a mottled memory, then used the same marker to draw two folded angel’s wings onto the back, adding blood spatters to the bottom edges of the feathers with a red marker. Satisfied that she’d come as close to replicating her back tat as well as she could without actually using needles, she’d turned her attention to the sleeves. They were too long and confining, so she cut them off, shortened them, then re-attached them at the shoulders Frankenstein-like with black twine stitches, reinforced with more duct tape. Knowing it was government property, just like she was, she left the insignia alone, as well as her name badge: C. BLAKE.

With the uniform jacket worn over a black T-shirt (Betty Boop as a biker babe on a Harley) with her favourite black & pink tartan mini and Doc Martens, Charlie was about as regulation as she was going to get without sedation. “You never get a second chance to make a first impression,” she told herself as she smudged black liner around her eyes, then used the same pencil liner on her lips. “Chief Warrant Officer Charlie Blake, reporting for duty, sir!” she saluted the mirror smartly, before spoiling the moment by giggling. “Get along, girlfriend, no point in being late.”

Charlie hustled over to her new appointment, those “first day of school” butterflies running amok in her stomach. Getting a new assignment had that magical moment, it was like peeling the cellophane off a new game and slipping the disc into the drive for the first time. What would she learn from this one? Would her skills be a match for what lay before her? Would she pin this monster to the ground as she had so many others before, or would this one be her defeat? “Stay tuned for more, bat fans,” she muttered as she passed a few startled cadets before making her way to the right office.

Shown to a waiting area, she slouched against a wall and wished for a Red Bull or Caf-Pow to pick her up. She’d find out who the others were soon enough, then hack into the personnel records tonight and find out all the dry little details the military deemed worthy of noting. The tall drink of water to her left was Looey, and Charlie was pretty sure she could cut herself on the creases in his uniform. He’d noted every bit of her attire, but said nothing…earning a point in his favour.

When they finally entered the Colonel’s office and he began to outline the mission, Charlie became all business. Every muscle went taut as she listened intently, gleaning every last bit of info from what the Colonel said, and didn’t say. With her hands moving restlessly, as if keying the information onto a keyboard, and her pale eyes scouring the images displayed on the monitor, Charlie looked like a bloodhound straining at the leash, waiting for the command to track. When the colonel finally asked if there were questions, Charlie didn’t know quite where to start, rolling her eyes in an unmistakable “of course I have questions” way. One commanding officer, nearly driven mad by her insatiable curiosity, had finally ordered her to ask no more than ten questions a day, and that had been unbearable. She took a deep breath, sorted her questions in order of importance and opened her mouth.

"Actually Sir, I do have some questions,” the Looey beside her started and Charlie quickly closed her mouth, teeth coming together with an audible click. She listened to the questions and nodded grudgingly. They weren’t her first, burning questions, but they were high on the list, and she’d have that many more of her own to ask, now, before trying the Colonel’s patience.

She listened to the Colonel’s answers, filling and categorizing the answers, knowing they’d only spur more questions. When he finished speaking, Charlie paused to be sure the Colonel had truly finished, then raised her hand.

“Mr. Colonel, sir. What about this Project Twilight Seed? Anything to do with quantum physics and “great deal of isolation” sounds like the accident that proceeded the Big Bang, if you know what I mean. Could the project itself be why the base has gone silent? Should we be wearing radiation protection gear? Umm..next, how many people are based there, so we know when we’ve found them all? How many military, how many civilian? What sort of protection did the computers have, and will we get the codes so I can bypass it? Moving data is easier than moving equipment, after all. Oh, and…”

Charlie stopped, realizing the Colonel’s eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline; not an easy feat with a military buzz cut. She gulped and reined in her tongue, finishing with, “ that’ll do for now. “

Rucky had woken himself up a full hour earlier than he had to, doing his daily exercises and getting out to the firing range as quickly as possible to ensure he'd have enough time to get in a few good practice shots before he had to go see the old Colonel. He'd received a summons to report for an assignment, something remote no doubt, as there was hazard pay included. Somewhere nice and wide as well, as (at least in Ricky's experience) you did not task a sniper with close combat unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that..." he mumbled to himself as he laced his well shined boots. The idea of being bludgeoned to death by some brute with a bat was somewhat unappealing to him. Quickly throwing on his desert camo shirt in a manner that would probably get a sharp yell from any officer he dashed out of his room and off towards the Colonels.

He was the third to arrive in the waiting room, behind one who he recognized as a lieutenant and another who appeared to be a civilian, and a pretty one at that. Ricky was staring at her out of the corner of his eye when he noticed he had missed a button on his shirt. Slightly perturbed by his proximity to a lieutenant, he did his best to look inconspicuous while redoing his shirt. Soon other arrived, and just as soon as he had finally finished with his clothes, another lieutenant called them in to the Colonel's room.

The Colonel's description of the assignment intrigued Ricky. He'd never been to Australia. It took him a few seconds to realize that the Colonel had in fact said Antarctica, and although it would probably be a lot colder, he'd never been there either.

The Colonel allowed for questions, and the lieutenant spoke before he had a chance, asking many of the questions he himself had been wondering. Having nothing left to ask, Ricky decided to would perhaps be best if he kept his silence, despite the urge to crack a joke about sightseeing on location. Ricky was content to listen for now, and small grin sneaked onto his face as he silently thought of going out on the assigned mission.

(OOC:...Not the best I've ever done.)

Inga had received her preliminary notification while on duty at the hospital. She read it over quickly then nooded to the messenger and put it away in her pocket. Inga spent a lot of extra time at the base hospital when not out in the field with a team of Rangers.

Inga had volunteer for the Army after mid thrid year of college on a pre-med tract.. There was a called for medically trained volunteers and she jumped in with both feet and her eyes wide open becasue she had a strong belief in her country. Her general physical condition and a black belt in Karate had served her well in basic training, She had been unfamiliar with shooting guns but she had been quite the arche4r, and so the principles of marksmanship were familiar to her and with plenty of practice she had earned a marksmanship badge or two. She had done very well in the medic program earning top honors, Her mother, Christina was a doctor and she had been in a pre-med program in college. She was as surprised as could be when she had been selected for Ranger Training, so had her parents who had hope she would have been out by now.

During basic training Inga worked hard at learning everything she was being taught. No job was to large no task was to small, She spent extra hours on her own on any of her weaknesses. Dad often told her that a chain was only as strong as the weakest link. She understood that concept and apllied it to her life in the Army and so worked hard to make her weak links stronger. Not much on the missive which she reread again, but the time and place to meet, that it was a volunteer assignment and hazardous. She had been on several Ranger teams in a variety of assignments, some hazardous, some less so, but she took them all in stride.

Before leaving the hospital she went over her medical pack to make sure everything was there and in perfect order. Seconds and minutes were precious when lived hung on quick, correct actions of the medic. Inga did not try to guess where they might be going, she considered that a waste of time. She would find out tomorrow, Once she knew where she was headed for she could fill in her pask with more specific items for the mission they would be undertaking. She would be accepting the assignment. IT was a challange and she always rose to a challenge like this.

Back in her barracks she cleaned her weapons disassembling them and checking every part out and cleaning them thoroughly and used a whetstone on the MAK knife and a wipe of oil. Once both weaons were eassemble she went out to the target range and made sure everything was in working order. Her personal choice M19 rifle and the M13 pistol. She especially liked the stopping power of the.45 caliber pistol.

Inga made sure her uniform was clean well pressed, boots polished to a high shine and everything in order before she went to bed. She was spit and polish sort of person.

Up early, well before the meeting time Inga showered wash her short blond hair and toweled it dried. It hung straight down with a quick brush. Cleaned, Pressed and dressed she headed of to HQ and Colonel Lucas’s office. Her ranger cap at a jaunty angle topped the whole outfit off. Inga took pride in her appearance; just as she took pride in her efforts to do her best. She arrived in the outer office about 10 minutes before the meeting. Inga looked around to se who esle was there. She saluted her superiors which in this case seemed to be everyone else currently in the room. It was't very many perhaps these were just the main participants. Inga strode over briskly to the staff clerk and repaorted with a smart salute. Cpl. Inga Johannsen, Sir. When finished she found a place to sit where she would watch and access the other gathered..

One more a Sargent came it soon after her. They were then called into the Colonel's office. She was the last to enter. and it seemed one of the youngest of the Rangers it looked like. Her fair Nordic looks made her often appear younger than she was. She listened carefully taking mental notes. She knew now the location and would pull what she needed for harsh Antarctic environment. But she didn’t let thinking about what she needed interfer with listening to the Colonel.

Everyone here accepted by the simple act of not leaving. That didn’t surprise her. The Colonel would have carefully selected the rangers he wanted. She was proud to be one of their number. Though she was surprised by how few the Army was sending in on the mission. Inga had never been on a Ranger team quite this small. That meant she was the only medic for these Rangers—a big responsibility but one she was up for.

There wsn’t a lot to go on, Colonel Lucas have given them what he knew—or a least what he could say, sometimes one never knew all that was known, but she thought He had been completely honest with them about what was known, and when the meeting is finished and they file out in the same order them filed in. She was the last.

Out in the outer office she address the the team leade. Saluting smartlym Inga explains. “Sir,. I need to add to my medical supplies for extreme cold conditions. Do you want to meet with us now or later?”

The thin bladed sword cut the air and as the two blades met a musical ring of steel sounded throughout the training facility as about a dozen rangers stood around and watched the two combatants in the center. Both stripped to the waist their taut muscled torsos glistening in sweat at the exertion of their sparring. The one man, large, tan and muscular, used a machete to try and overpower his opponent with his constant hacking, but the trimmer but no less fit Asian man before him used his weapon to deflect every blow with seeming ease. A fact that only seemed to enrage the larger man.

The smaller man used a fragile looking compared to the machete; a straight short sword, with a thin blade only and inch and a half inches wide, that bent and flowed through the air that made one doubt it was made of steel. It seemed to sing as it cut through the air and the man wielding it apparently knew how to use it.

Finally tiring of the exercise, the smaller man delivered small cut to the forearm of the larger man causing him to drop his weapon and fall back. “I GIVE!”

James smiled and bowed to his opponent, “Your getting better Carl, but you still over extend yourself and try to smash down your opponents guard which is difficult if the opponent is smart and fast.”

The bigger man picked up his weapon from the mat and walked up and clapped his big hand down on the smaller man’s shoulder and laughed, “You mean fast like you, Sarg?”

“Yes,” James said with all modesty, “your movement are all circular slashing moves and take too long to connect, remember attacks from the center of your body are more direct and take less time… Now hit the showers private, lesson is over.”

Turning to the assembled men, “There wont be a session next week, as I am leaving on assignment, I will let everyone know when the next one is upon my return.”

As the group broke up with comments on what Carl could have done to win, James walked over and picked up his scabbard and a towel from the bench. Draping the towel over his left forearm, he slowly wiped the engraved blade across the towel watching as the light reflected off the scalloped edge before sheathing the blade and heading to the showers.

Emerging from the training center and hour later, he was freshly shaved, dressed in his fatigues with his standard M9 pistol on his hip and his small hilt of his sword rising slightly over his right shoulder. He marched smartly over to Regiment HQ in plenty of time before his briefing on the new mission.

He wasn’t surprised to see several there before him in the outer office, he was surprised at the two females in the group especially the civilian woman. Yet the only sign of his surprise would have been the rise of one eyebrow, which usually reminded people of Mr. Spock from an old TV show that still showed on some late night Classic entertainment channels.

James saluted the Lt and the Staff Sergeant, “Sergeant James Lee, at your command.” He assumed that these two would be in charge of the mission, whatever it might be.

In side the Colonel’s office, James snapped to attention and saluted Col Lucas and stood at ease when given permission. He listened to the briefing and to the questions asked by the LT and the civilian, who apparently was some kind of scientist he took it. After it was over he had no questions himself, he was use to others making decision and his job was to follow orders.

Filing out into the outer office he went over to the LT and Staff Sergeant and saluted again, “Sirs, your orders?” He would wait to see if they had any special things they wanted them to do before he would head off to do as the Colonel said, Eat, get his gear ready and met at the assigned place for take off.

Colonel Lucas had expected questions, so he was prepared to give answers. He had NOT expected Blake to show up in the mockery she called a uniform - he knew about her earlier episodes, but the dossier had clearly stated that she had much improved this facet of her professional life.

Obviously, the dossier had exaggerated. For several moments, he considered calling Williams back in, directing this woman out of his office, and contacting another technical advisor. But this was not his father's army - Mark knew that this woman was good, otherwise she wouldn't have a career with the Rangers. Begrudgingly, he turned his focus to the questions posed.

"Lieutenant Kernan, you will first board a B-52 that will take you to twenty-five thousand feet, where the attached scramjet will disembark and take you via autopilot to WhiteHorse Station in Antarctica. A chopper will take you from there directly to ARF36.

We simply do not know what may have happened to the station, so the threat level is unknown. It could be a malfuntion with the project, it could be an invasion by hostiles - we simply do not know.

As a military research facility, ARF36 maintains a small detachment of Army security personnel, in addition to various electronic defense mechanisms, as well as the security that isolation in subzero temperatures brings.

Communication-wise, you will carry satlink comm units, as well as a traditional radio - you should have no issue communicating with us here using the former, and with WhiteHorse using the latter.

Currently the focus of ARF36 is totally devoted to Twilight Seed, so any data you collect should be associated with it.

You will be extracted via chopper once you radio for it. There is no set clock - this mission will take as long as it takes."

Lucas took a deep breath. Thorough bugger, he mused. It was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes at the "mister Colonel" reference. He was fairly sure the chief was deliberately trying to tweak him - surely no decent drill sergeant would have tolerated such nonsence in boot camp - but he couldn't afford to rethink the mission composition this late in the game, so he let it slide.

"Chief," he began, "it is possible that the project is indeed responsible for the base's silence - we simply do not know. The intel we have on the project does not suggest that Doctor Giles was working with any sort of radioactive material.

ARF36 had a security detail of twelve, plus six civillian researchers. You will be provided with the security intel we have on the computer systems there, but be advised that if the systems are still functioning, the passcodes that we have will by necessity already be out of date."

The colonel rubbed the bridge of his nose once more. "If there is nothing else, then? Good luck, rangers. Dismissed."

Kane had arrived early, and as such the first, for the Colonel’s briefing as was his nature and so was able to get a look at this “hand picked” team.

The Lt was next to arrive and Kane greeted him with coming to attention and a quick salute. With a return salute given Kane introduced himself.
“Staff Sergeant Kane sir, nice to meet you.”
The arrival of the next person cut the Lt’s reply short as both watched, shocked, as a woman entered the waiting room.

What the hell is that thought the Staff Sergeant as the women wearing nothing resembling any sort of regulation uniform seemed to be out of place. She looked more like one of those crazy punk rockers or Goth chicks then a human being and more importantly a soldier and on top of it all she was seemingly wearing all the chains and S**t associated with that culture. Her camo jacket was totally modified with duct type and a design of something on its back. What was left of the camo jacket was worn over a black T-shirt with some kind of girlie cartoon on its front instead of BDU pants she was wearing a black & pink tartan mini skirt and Doc Martens instead of Combat boots on her feet.
What the hell was this upcoming mission, a trek into Hollywood as damn if this “Women” didn’t remind him of Abby from the show NCIS. He could only hope she was not going on this mission, maybe just a secretary or something here to take notes.

Before Kane could move to confront her, the next hopefully human being entered the room, thank god in full uniform, Corporal stripes on his sleeves, but again this one seemed not to obey Military regs and present himself before an officer.
What the hell kind of personal were they tasking for this Op and what the hell was he doing here, maybe he’d f**ked up somehow and this was his punishment.

The next two were in proper uniform the first a female was clearly a medic as her insignia on her collar insignia proclaimed her. The second was another sergeant who though a little eager at least knew how to salute an officer.

Then the Colonel’s clerk called them into his office and they were told the details of the mission and to his horror it was revealed that “Abby” was really part of the team.
With the question and answer session over and all filling out, Kane gathered all but the Lt and gave his first orders.

“OK listen up you heard the Colonel we are headed out soon I want all winter gear packed, armor readied and weapons issued and cleaned by 08:00. At that time I will do a visual inspection of all gear and weapons and rucksacks to make sure no unnecessary gear is taken. Ok Everyone move out except you Blake I want a word with you over here. Lt join us please.”

Once the others were gone and the Lt had joined then Kane spoke again but this time with a deeper voice to make sure his next point would get across.

“Blake your rank says you’re a Chief Warrant and normally I could respect that but you strike me as one piss poor officer. Now I know you “Out rank” me but your not in my chain of command on this mission so listen very carefully to what I am saying. You will by 07:30 have on a proper military uniform, boots, cap, the works. You will have whatever weapon they issue you, god help us if its more then a 9 mil, cleaned and disassembled and ready to be reassembled in front of me. You will prove to me that you belong on this mission and will not get in the way of a successful completion of such. Lt anything you want to say before I dismiss her.”

Waiting for the Lt to speck Kane was eager to test this officer by seeing how he reacted to this piss poor display before them. Would he be a softy or a hard ass for clearly the way Blake/Abby was dressed at the moment she would be more a danger to herself and the others then if in proper uniform and discipline. He hoped the LT was a good officer for if not and they ran into trouble they could all end up FUBARed....

Monty listened attentively to the answers given for both his and the Chief's--In that outfit!?--questions. It seemed fairly straight forward, a simple recon mission turning to a search and rescue. They had four hours to prepare...four hours to get familiar with each other, and then another four to six (depending) of flight time. And though the 1st Lieutenant didn't turn to look at his team, he mentally summed up their appearances. Aside from the Chief, there didn't appear to be any anomalies.

One last question still hung in the back of his mind, but he was sure it would be less than civil to ask after it in front of the others, and the Army had likely already thought to provide him with the answers in some form or another. Four hours wasn't much time to go over team members dossier, but it was all he'd have, if that.

When the Colonel dismissed them, Monty rose sharply from his seat and offered a crisp salute, then turned in a more relaxed fashion and moseyed from the room. He was caught up in his thoughts just outside the door by some of the team members...the medic, Corporal Johannsen, and Sgt. Lee introducing themselves and asking after orders.

Monty paused, as was his way, considering the team and what might be the best course of action at this point with the limited time they had on their hands. Having basically been forged in the heat of combat, he relished the opportunities peace time afforded him to consider his actions without just acting on impulse. Unfortunately, in this situation, that seemed to open a door for the Staff Sergeant to take charge. Cocking his head to the side like a bemused puppy, Monty leaned against the wall and watched the reception the NCO received. It was usually the sergeant's duty to keep everything in order while the officers weren't around, but when an officer was present, and the officer had not clearly handed authority over to the sergeant, it was usually good manners to await instruction from "on high". Monty waited until the sergeant had finished, never of the mind that you dress down leadership in front of the team, and then calmly accepted the big man's invitation to join him and the Chief off to the side, nodding his farewells to the rest of the team and returning salutes as appropriate.

“Blake your rank says you’re a Chief Warrant and normally I could respect that but you strike me as one piss poor officer. Now I know you 'Out rank' me but your not in my chain of command on this mission so listen very carefully to what I am saying. You will by 07:30 have on a proper military uniform, boots, cap, the works. You will have whatever weapon they issue you--god help us if its more then a 9 mil--cleaned and disassembled and ready to be reassembled in front of me. You will prove to me that you belong on this mission and will not get in the way of a successful completion of such. Lt. anything you want to say before I dismiss her.”

Monty raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, "Oh, so you're letting me speak now Sergeant?" Turning from the other man he looked down at Blake.

"Chief, Sgt. Kane's right about one thing at least: you're a far cry from regulation, and that usually spells trouble for the team. You buck the System in the Cool, what're you going to do in the Heat? Savvy? Only thing is, the Colonel let it slide, so he must know something I don't, and in Military Speak that means I gotta respect his decision for putting you on my team. Make no mistake, Chief. You and I are gonna have to come to an understanding, and we've got less than four hours to do so. As such, I'm gonna amend the Sergeant's 'orders' and state this much: when you get your gear together you'll meet me in the mess hall proper. I'll expect you no later than 0800 hours." Monty paused just a moment to read her expression before stating, "Dismissed."

When she'd left, he turned back to the man who'd practically absconded his command and stared into the big man's eyes, his own slightly narrowed for a moment as he assessed Kane a little further. Was this staff sergeant power hungry? Was there going to be command conflict? Or was he just trying to be efficient?

"Walk with me a moment Sergeant."

Monty turned and made his way from the room. He continued in silence until he was outside, fully expecting Staff Sergeant Kane to follow as instructed. This was, after all, the military so as far as Monty was concerned, Kane didn't have much choice in the matter.

"Sergeant Kane," Monty said in a calm drawl once they'd set foot outside. "We got ourselves a problem. See? You've just done two things that could get you in serious piles of horse sh*t with me an' we've barely said two words to each other.

"I've got this mantra, ya know? Like a code that I work within at all times. It's kinda like my Ranger's Code, savvy? Well, it don't allow for much in the way of burning bridges immediately, and it won't much allow for me to think the worst of an individual until I've more time for them to sh*t on my shoes. As such, I'll tell you what I'm not gonna do, and then I'll follow that up by what I am gonna do, and then, I'll tell you what you're gonna do."

Monty continued to walk at a slow, leisurely pace as he addressed the bigger man, taking in the sights, watching as squads trotted by on exercise, stopping at a curb to allow a large, brown truck to rumble past. He even paused in his rhetoric to allow what he'd said to sink in for a moment.

"I'm not gonna assume you are out to undermine my command, Sergeant. Instead, I'm gonna assume you were trying to be efficient and I'm going to let that little show of authority back there slide with little more than this said; I am a hands on Looey, Sarge, and I'll be more than happy to let you know when, and if, I need your assistance to get the team pulled together.

"Now, here's what you're gonna do: You're gonna apologize to the Chief, to her face, in front of the rest of the team, because I'll be damned if some staff sergeant knows better than a colonel as far as team placement is concerned, and I'll be damned again if I'm gonna let that little display of disrespect for a senior officer destroy what chances of success we have on this mission. What's more is I don't know who's ass you pulled that bit about her not being in your chain-of-command out of, but as near as I remember Chiefs outrank Staff Sergeants, so because of your little conflagration you'll be making your apology in front of the whole team."

Monty turned and stopped their progress by stepping in front of Staff Sergeant Kane. "I'll have the chain-of-command respected on my team, Sergeant. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?

"Now, since you summarily dismissed my team before I had a chance to give instructions, you'll gather up your gear and spend the next while pulling the team together at the mess hall by 0900 hours. Dismissed!"

Without anything further to say, Lt. Kernan strode purposefully away from the man he'd just put in his place. His destination was quickly fulfilled as he returned to his quarters, made sure his gear was in place, packed it about himself, and made his way to the Mess Hall Proper where he was to meet Chief WO Blake.

Inga halted and stood up straight and tall and the sergeant literally chewed out the CWO. She didn’t say a thing. It wasn’t her problem except the Sergeant dismissed them all before the Lieutenant had a chance to answer her question. She pause a second or two more but it was clearly evident that Lieutenant had something on his mind and she could just guess what that might be especially since the lieutenant told the Sergeant to “walk” with him. Well waiting here would not help her get all the things she needed to get done in a timely manner, She could ask again later.

First she set off at a brisk jog to get to the hospital. No time to waste , there would be plenty of time on the airplane flight to rest, eat and whatever else needed doing. Her long strides carried quickly to the base hospital. Once inside she set off of towards medical supplies. Inga’s short hair swung aback and forth as she jogged, and that was not all. She was no slender, willowy Nordic beauty but and more robust Brunnhilda--a Valkerie. As a child she had loved the Scandinavian tales of Gods and Goddesses, Heroes and Heroines, villians, and giants. Her middle name, Louise, meant “Battle Maiden”. Little did her parents know haw prophetically they had named her. She briskly salutes the officer in charge of supplies. “Sir, Cpl. Inga Johannsen here, she states crisply. “Do you have anything ordered for me, Sir?”

Inga expects there might have already been an order turned in for the team. The team may not have met until this morning but the higher ups did know who was chosen to go and where it was going. If for some reason it wasn’t she would have to list and have them pull everything herself. She trusted what she knew about the Army Rangers thoroughness, though she starts to prepare a list in case. To be prepared is to have the battle half fought.

After gathering needed supplies Inga heads back to the quartermaster’s at the same brisk jog to get cold weather gear, and weapons issued. That a few heads turn in her direction totally does not impinged on her as she goes though her preparations, which includes cleaning the weapons she was issued, disassembling them and then reassembling them just as the Sergeant had told the CWO she would have to do for him. She was hoping that that bit of push and pull would not interfere with the mission. They were to few in number to have unnecessary problems like that affecting the team. She well remembered her training and having to do this in the dark.

Once everything is packed to her satisfaction she heads for the Mess Hall. She checks her watch and see that she has enough time to eat before takeoff. She looks for her team as soon as she picks up her food. Always there were eggs, sometimes they were even fairly decent. Bacon was there though Inga really liked smoked herring. Pancakes or waffles, she piled up and spread with jam or whatever preserves they had. She didn’t like syrup all that much it was too running and didn’t stay on well. OJ and a big glass of milk finished her breakfast choices. Picking up her well loaded tray she makes her way into the Mess Hal proper and looks for her team.

Spotting some of the members already there she makes her was over to the table. Smoothly transferring her tray to her left hand she salutes the others gathered there already since they all outrank her, “Sir, Inga Johannsen, reporting.”

With the question and answer session over and all filling out, Kane gathered all but the Lt and gave his first orders.

“OK listen up you heard the Colonel we are headed out soon I want all winter gear packed, armor readied and weapons issued and cleaned by 08:00. At that time I will do a visual inspection of all gear and weapons and rucksacks to make sure no unnecessary gear is taken. Ok Everyone move out except you Blake I want a word with you over here. Lt join us please.”
Sergeant Lee saluted the Staff Sergeant, “Yes Sir!” and smartly turned and left the HQ and headed back to his quarters to gather his gear.

Having a couple hours James knew he had plenty of time. He didn’t have to clean his weapons as he always kept them clean, but he quickly inspected them and made sure everything was in working order.

He had taken a shower just before going to the meeting so he pulled out his ARBA suit and underclothes and began to dress. Knowing the mission involved cold weather he donned his Polypro GI Issue ECWCS cold weather thermal wear. The extreme cold weather polypro fleece underwear kept you super warm, it was moisture wicking and so comfortable you couldn’t tell you were wearing it. Next came the Ranger ARBA suit which was the latest greatest breakthrough in personal body armor. No Ranger should be without it.

His M6A1 carbine was properly lubricated and for the moment unloaded, but he loaded 7 magazines giving each a rap on his footlocker to settle the ammo before slipping each into it’s magazine pouch.

James worked action on his M9A2 9mm pistol and loaded it before holstering it and stowing the two extra mags. He wiped down the blade of his grandfather Chinese short sword before strapping it on his back. He added a few grenades, a couple of frag and a couple of incendiary, just in case.

He slipped a Surefire E2D Defender Xenon flashlight into a pouch on his belt. Extremely bright (60 Lumens), small and tough due to it’s aircraft grade aluminum body, it was something he never failed to carry. Into his other belt pouches he packed his small items, waterproof matches, a Swiss Army knife, a commando wire saw and a half dozen snap light 12 hour light sticks.

He finished off by packing away his other normal items (Food, water, candles, water purification tablets, extra clothing, 50ft of #550 parachute cord, etc.) in his small rucksack and tied his artic sleeping bag to it and slung it on his back.

Finished a little before 0800, he slung his carbine over his shoulder and went to the mess hall to muster and grab a bite to eat. A Ranger never knew when he might get his next meal. He had a generous breakfast, but didn’t over do it. Bacon, eggs, hash browns, pancakes, and some OJ and he was good to go.

He saw members of the team gathered at a table away from general crowd and he took his meal over there. Sitting down his tray he will salute the Lt or Staff sergeant if they are there. “Sergeant Lee reporting ready, Sir!” Once given permission he will set his M6A1 Carbine leaning against the table and he will sit and begin to eat waiting for further orders.

May 8th, 2025
Lawson Army Airfield, Fort Benning, Georgia
Tarmac - 0845

The team is dropped off at the edge of the tarmac by a creaking, ancient truck painted in the old style olive camo - how the thing even still cranks is a mystery.

Requisitioning gear has been no problem. Inga found a thorough, well put together medical kit waiting for her when she arrived. Everyone is able to get the proper arms and ammo with surprisingly little of the typical Army "hurry up and wait."

The team is assembled, any last minute discussions are held, and a truck arrives to pick them up.

GM's note: if you guys wanna backpost the 0800 team meeting - or anything after it - go for it.
On the runway, you can easily spot the ponderous form of a gigantic B-52K being fueled for takeoff. Unsurprisingly, the air reeks of jet fuel in the eighty-five degree heat (and seventy percent humidity) of the Georgia day. As you look around, a harried young corporal rushes toward your group, spots the lieutenant, and salutes.

"You're a little early - I just got notified. Corporal Stanley Bale, at your service! We'll need to stow your gear and get you into flight suits."

Behind him, you hear the loud whine of the B-52's eight powerful jet engines as they begin to warm up.

Corporal Bale grins. "Pretty impressive, huh? She'll take you up to twenty thousand feet, and then the real fun starts with the X-66 drone inside."

He motions for you to follow him to a nearby jeep, but casts a disparaging glance at your gear. "You do know that there is a weight limit, right?" he asks.

You are driven to a small building where you are prompted to remove all weaponry and ammo in order to ensure proper flight suit fit. Your gear is carefully stowed in duffels before being returned to the jeep. Once everyone is ready, Bale ushers the team back to the jeep.

Your orange flight suits fit uncomfortably as you are driven back to the runway. The massive bulk of the ebony B-52K looms overhead as your jeep approaches. As the vehicle comes to a stop near the cargo entrance to the plane, you spy a long, white, cylindrical object with folded white wings nestled in the belly of the behemouth.

Corporal Bale users the team up the ramp and into the B-52, then into the cargo hold of the small scramjet. A pair of narrow benches face each other across the narrow fuselage, with what appear to be hastily rigged harnesses to strap you into place. The front of the drone has a single control panel, but no seat. When asked about it, the corporal grins.

"The X-66 is computer guided," he explains. "You won't be needing a pilot. Once the B-52 gets up to twenty thousand, the X-66 will lauch, take you up to forty thousand, and kick in the burners. At Mach six, it will still take you better than two hours to make the flight to Antarctica, but I can't think of a quicker way to go almost nine thousand miles." He grins and shakes his head. "Why someone would want to go there that fast is beyond me!"

It had begun so well, Charlie had thought. The Colonel had lived up to his reputation as a smart leader by focusing on the misson, failing to rise to the bait of Charlie’s outfit. When he answered her questions about the mission and dismissed the group, Charlie responded with a crisp “Sir. Thank you, Sir!” and nodded, eyes sparkling with good humour.

She’d turned smartly and filed out with the others, and since two of the other members of the team had questions of the Lieutenant, Charlie lingered to hear the answers and perhaps speak with the others. That’s when the boorish lout of a sergeant assigned to the team decided that his injured sense of propriety was more important than the chain of command and good manners, unleashing a torrent of vitriol at Charlie that she hadn’t experienced since the first time she’d disappeared on her handlers, some six years ago.

“Blake your rank says you’re a Chief Warrant and normally I could respect that but you strike me as one piss poor officer. Now I know you “Out rank” me….”

She was too used to this sort of soldier, unfortunately, and so she just stared him down as he went all red in the face and ranted. Her pale face was expressionless behind the mask of makeup, but her ice chip eyes could have cut diamonds. She didn’t bother to respond immediately, due to the lieutenant’s presence, and since the sergeant asked the lieutenant to add his own words, Charlie simply turned on her heel to face her new team leader full in the face.

"Chief, Sgt. Kane's right about one thing at least: you're a far cry from regulation, and that usually spells trouble for the team. You buck the System in the Cool, what're you going to do in the Heat? Savvy? …. I'm gonna amend the Sergeant's 'orders' and state this much: when you get your gear together you'll meet me in the mess hall proper. I'll expect you no later than 0800 hours." Monty paused just a moment to read her expression before stating, "Dismissed."

“Permisson to speak, sir?” Charlie asked, her voice neutral. (Presuming the Lt gives it). “I’m more regulation than you may give me credit for, sir, but I hope you’ll learn that in time. If you don’t have my dossier waiting for you in your quarters, I’ll arrange for you to have it, hard or soft copy, and you’ll be able to see that in the heat, I’m in Hell’s Kitchen, cooking with gas and getting the job done. I’m good at what I do, and the Rangers recruited me, not the other way around,” she stated without boasting, just quietly confident. “The rest is just window dressing, designed to separate the thinking men from the trained apes that sadly permeate the armed services. It will be a pleasure to serve with you, sir. 0800, in the mess hall, sir.”

She gave another clipped nod, executed a drill turn on her heel again, and her back as ramrod straight as it had been since hearing of the mission.

Outside, she moved quickly to her quarters, which simply meant lengthening the stride of her long legs. As she did so, she sighed and shook her head a look of sad disappointment crossing her face as she thought of Kane. “Damn, damn, damnety damn…here I thought recruitment was getting better…blind obedience is one thing for the grunts, but how can you make strategic leaders out of ‘em after you drill the thinking out of ‘em? Stupid monkeys.”

Once in her room, however, she pushed the matter aside, instead pulling her gear together in next to no time. She’d moved so often after becoming a ward of the state that she was always half packed, and ruthless about not accumulating anything she didn’t need, beyond a few choice items of clothes and arcane computer equipment that puzzled even most techs. The sole decoration in the spartan room were two plastic figures, Victor Van Dort and the Corpse Bride, from an old animated movie Charlie adored. She patted them both on their oversized, pallid faced heads as she moved to the computer desk occupying most of the space.

She minimized the screen on one computer, letting the search program run in the background, and initiated a couple of bots she used whenever she had a new assignment. One opened her email program and proceeded to write and send emails out to various online friends, explaining that she wouldn’t be around for a while. Those acquaintances who thought she was a computer consultant were told of a conference in Berlin, those who thought her an archeology student got a breathless note about a new dig in Belize…and so on. Another launched an instant message app, and IM’d her gamer buddies that she was too busy in school, and wouldn’t be posting or joining any tournaments for a while. Charlie had many friends she’d never met in the real world, and none of them had any idea who she really was. The last bot would run on her mail server, sorting incoming mail, deleting the crap, and archiving the rest, getting the messages off the network and onto her hard drive.

Her computer case took the longest to pack, since she didn’t know what she would face, and couldn’t bring everything, but eventually she whittled it down to essentials and multi-purpose tools, knowing she could always improvise on the rest.

Last was her gun, kept in a locked storage locker at the foot of her bed. She disassembled it, examined it thoroughly and reassembled it, checking the sighting once she’d finished. She didn’t like having a gun, but lacking superpowers, she’d made peace with the weapon, and it had served her well enough so far.

At precisely 07:50, she was standing in the mess hall, gear neatly laid out before her in a neat row. She’d changed from the Docs and mini skirt into combat boots and camo pants, and if they seemed a little bulky for her lanky frame, only she knew they were lined on the inside with comforting scraps of old t-shirts she’d outgrown. The makeup remained, but her hair was tucked under a BDF cap….at a distance, she almost looked regulation. Almost.


OOC: wanted to post Charlie's reaction...will post about the plane ride later....

Kane waited for any reaction from the Lt to his dressing down of W/O Blake

“Chief, Sgt. Kane's right about one thing at least: you're a far cry from regulation, and that usually spells trouble for the team. You buck the System in the Cool, what're you going to do in the Heat? Savvy? Only thing is, the Colonel let it slide, so he must know something I don't, and in Military Speak that means I gotta respect his decision for putting you on my team. Make no mistake, Chief. You and I are gonna have to come to an understanding, and we've got less than four hours to do so. As such, I'm gonna amend the Sergeant's 'orders' and state this much: when you get your gear together you'll meet me in the mess hall proper. I'll expect you no later than 0800 hours. Dismissed.”

With the W/O’s reply and her departure, Kane knew it was his turn for a ‘Dressing Down’

“Walk with me a moment Sergeant."

Once outside, Kane pulled his Beret from the lower right hand pocket of his BDU’s and placed it on his head. Then as the Lt continued to walk he followed after him, with almost 15 years in this man’s army the Staff Sergeant pretty much knew what was coming next.

"Sergeant Kane we got ourselves a problem. See? You've just done two things that could get you in serious piles of horse sh*t with me an' we've barely said two words to each other. I've got this mantra, ya know? Like a code that I work within at all times. It's kinda like my Ranger's Code, savvy? Well, it don't allow for much in the way of burning bridges immediately, and it won't much allow for me to think the worst of an individual until I've more time for them to sh*t on my shoes. As such, I'll tell you what I'm not gonna do, and then I'll follow that up by what I am gonna do, and then, I'll tell you what you're gonna do. I'm not gonna assume you are out to undermine my command, Sergeant. Instead, I'm gonna assume you were trying to be efficient and I'm going to let that little show of authority back there slide with little more than this said; I am a hands on Looey, Sarge, and I'll be more than happy to let you know when, and if, I need your assistance to get the team pulled together.

"Now, here's what you're gonna do: You're gonna apologize to the Chief, to her face, in front of the rest of the team, because I'll be damned if some staff sergeant knows better than a colonel as far as team placement is concerned, and I'll be damned again if I'm gonna let that little display of disrespect for a senior officer destroy what chances of success we have on this mission. What's more is I don't know who's ass you pulled that bit about her not being in your chain-of-command out of, but as near as I remember Chiefs outrank Staff Sergeants, so because of your little conflagration you'll be making your apology in front of the whole team."

As the Lt Came to a quick stop Kane came to full attention.

"I'll have the chain-of-command respected on my team, Sergeant. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?”

“SIR, YES, SIR!!

“Now, since you summarily dismissed my team before I had a chance to give instructions, you'll gather up your gear and spend the next while pulling the team together at the mess hall by 0900 hours. Dismissed!"

“Permission to speak plainly SIR!!”

(Providing he stops and lets me speak)

“What happened between the W/O and myself was planned to make her aware of her status and responsibility as an officer. Though she is out of the chain of command on this mission she is yet an officer and for her to dress that way sets a bad example for the other troopers. I knew what I was doing was wrong sir but I did it anyway knowing you would ream me a new A**hole so as to get her to dress in the proper uniform, more to spite me and to please you sir. Think of it as good cop, bad cop sir, now in her eyes you’re the good guy.
As for dismissing the team, yes sir that was my fault, I have been leading my own team now for years and it was more instinctive then anything else and for a moment I forgot you were in charge of the team. For that sir I apologize and I promise it will not happen again.”

(Wait for a reply)

"If there is nothing else Sir I will get my gear ready and the rest of the team into the Mess Hall by 0900 as ordered. Permission to be dismissed SIR!!”

Without anything further to say, Kane watched as Lt. Kernan dismissed him once again and strode purposefully away. The Staff Sergeant was glad for the reaming out as it had cleared any doubts in his mind that this Lt was a candy ass REMF.

Feeling better for knowing this he made his way to his NCO housing and gathered up his gear. First up was his ARBA Suit, next his Gerber boot knife and his Kabar Marine fighting knife, won in a card game oh so long ago, and since modified with a brass knuckle hilt. Though not issued through the armory, as a Ranger assigned to Black Ops they were allowed as personal protection items and as such they were his pride and joy.
A weeks worth of MRE’s, 2 canteens of water, 10 packs of water sanitizer, 3 pairs semi-water proof socks and his winter issue were next and with that he was set.

Next stop was the base armory which per the Colonels orders had his standard mission gear ready.
A SAW 251, an M13 Issue 45 cal side arm, 4 Grenades, 2 H.E, 1 Termite, and one Fragmentation grenade and his issue MAK Combat Knife.

With his gear set and weapons issued he headed for the Mess Hall to review the other members of the team as per the Lt’s orders.....

BEFORE TAKEOFF/MESS HALL
May 8th, 2025
75th Ranger Regiment Mess Hall, Fort Benning, Georgia
0900 hrs

With his gear set and weapons issued he headed for the Mess Hall to review the other members of the team as per the Lt’s orders. As he arrived he called out to each of them to place his or her gear in front of them for his inspection and proceeded to do just that. With a comment here and there, needed or not, he finally came before W/O Blake at which point the came to attention in front of her.
In a voice clear enough for all to hear he spoke to her as the officer she was.

“Ma’am I want to apologize to you for my conduct in the Colonel's office. Though not in this unit’s chain of command you are yet an officer and for me to talk to you as I did was disrespectful of your standing as an officer. As such if after this mission you wish to bring me up on charges of disrespecting an officer as per the UCMJ I will not dispute such. Again my apologies.”

With a salute given (and hopefully returned) he continued the gear inspection.

(Ok as Vanadia above I will post more of the plane ride after Brom or you Olan post. I want to see if there is any reaction to my words to Blake that I may have to post about before I move Kane forward to the plane.)