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A Yard of Bone and Glass

A Yard of Bone and Glass

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Temporal paradoxes and government secrets; help find the connection between an Iron Age woman discovered in New York and the British Nuclear Program.

909 readers have visited A Yard of Bone and Glass since Smokescreen created it.

Introduction

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*More players needed* I will be needing more Military Individuals, Government Agents and Random Civilians. Basically if you feel you'd like to be a part, PM me and we can discuss your role. Some information is already available in the OOC section of the Roleplay, but any other questions can be addressed to me.

9 March 2013
Doctor Aiia Nagarajan
Virgin Queen Hospital
Charles Town, Carolina Colony

Sarah Wallace made her way down the long, green tile hall to her boss’ office, arms laden with file folders, one large three-inch ringed binder and a rack of four vials of blood. The woman was an intern and between classes she was privileged enough to work thirty five hours a week for Doctor Aiia Nagarajan. It was good work, a lot of research and lots of fetched cups of chai though Sarah didn’t mind as Doctor Nagarajan was the best in her field. The young woman juggled her burden and pushed the metal handle down with an elbow and pushed the door open with her hip. Walking in the cluttered laboratory Sarah exhaled in relief that she did not drop one thing.

“Tea?” Nagarajan asked jokingly but upon turning and seeing the struggling woman she stood and rushed to help her intern. “I wish you’d let me help carry things.” The woman had a pleasant, reassuring voice accented in the standard Oxford polish of most scientists, doctors and professors. Aiia was not unlovely but the fifty hours a shift she spent at her lab wore on her. The woman’s soft chocolate, tea cup eyes were puffy and reddened, her full lips were chapped from the sub-arctic air conditioner that blazed all the time. Aiia was wearing the same peach coloured blouse she put on four days ago and her linen skirt looked like it had sat at the bottom of a laundry basket for a week.

Doctor Nagarajan took the folders from her intern and placed them on the stainless steel counter top by her work area. “Did you talk to Marcus? What did his tests say?” Sarah looked up trying to recall what Doctor Marcus Grant, a geneticist said about the samples he was given. “Grant said that they had a genetic marker congruent to certain Semitic tribes occupying the Sinai Peninsula region about three thousand years ago. Yet he wanted to re-test them as the tissue also had modern corruption he couldn’t account for.” Aiia looked at the woman inquisitively. “Did he expand on that conjecture?”

Sarah nodded and went to the corner of the room and poured herself a cup of coffee, taking a sip of the bitter, overly hot liquid she smiled. “He said that there was a presence of petroleum by product and the fact the sample had low level radiation it would have been like the woman worked on a ship with a nuclear reactor for ten years then jumped in the ocean and drowned, her body floating in commercial shipping lanes for about five weeks until she was discovered. It didn’t mesh with her genetics.”

“I want to show you something Sarah.” Aiia took a folder from a closed desk drawer, invited the intern to sit and then did so herself. She opened the folder and leafed through it before passing it to the younger woman. “The subject of this mystery, is this woman,” She pointed to the photograph Sarah was now holding. “Early twenties, high concentrations of lead and arsenic in her blood, but no vaccination markers though she did have antibodies for Gibraltarian Fever.” Sarah looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “The last case of that was in 1610 and that was when Gibraltarian Fever had been gone a thousand years.” Aiia smiled. Sarah looked at the woman and sighed. “You are saying that this woman has revived Gibraltarian Fever?” Doctor Nagarajan laughed. “Oh no, nothing so absurd I’m saying this woman lived in the Iron Age but died a month ago.”

***


This story will be almost a novelization as in as the story progresses the characters will find out more information. If you do not understand, good you’re not supposed to.

The World

We are in the modern day, the year is 2013. England is the world’s only super power controlling the most land (including India, Australia, Canada, Greenland, Iceland, Norway, China, Several African colonies and the northeast part of the continental United States). The British Communal Expanse (BCE) has largest armed forces and highest technological achievements. They pioneered the nuclear program and ushered in the modern age. Germany is their closest ally and controls the international police force along with a monopoly on the highest grade of several industrial metals and diamonds. Germany encompasses Switzerland, Austria, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Croatia-Serbia, Italy and colonies in Africa in addition to the Central United States.

There has been peace for ten years after the brutal Rus-Turk war ended in 2003. It was a quick, violent altercation that threatened to drag everyone into a second great war but through diplomacy and compromise The Turkish Empire stopped their aggression and Russia signed the Murat-Izmir Treaty. There are still those angry with both countries if it did come to a global conflict Russia, England and Germany would have been on one side and Spain, France and Turkey would have been on the other. It would have destroyed the entire world and yet the reason the war ended was never publicized, it just simply stopped. There is still animosity with the two coalitions and some say it’s only a matter of time before a problem breaks out again but on a grander scale.

History

In 1989 a piece of metal the size of a small coin was found in a clay jar within Etruscan ruins recently unearthed. This was normal to find old coins in such ruins but this disk was made of titanium and had a word imprinted on it, “Push”. Those in academia called it a hoax and the Archaeologist that discovered it was ruined and committed suicide by putting an old Webley revolver in his mouth and pulling the trigger. The man’s name was Jeremy Dulcate, son of Martin Dulcate one of the charter members of the Yorkshire Project. A reporter noted this and wrote a two hundred and seventeen word blurb about it. The article was posted on page three in the “Society” section of the New York Dispatch newspaper, a section most people overlook. This was not the case today a man far removed from the American shores read the report and frowned. He used to work with another Dulcate years ago and it was that man who developed "morals" so suddenly that pushed his work back decades. He was 93 now, too tired to go on but he would find another to take his place, he had to.


Players

Character breakdown will be a generic shell; you may fill in name, age, physical description, photo, height/weight and personality. When I accept your character I will message you a sort of dossier that will have pertinent information in it; what you do, where you work, colleagues and friends (NPCs you can control) pay grade (if applicable) birthplace and history. You may then apply that to your character sheet. The roles for right now are:

*More Characters Needed*

Haematologist- Aiia Nagarajan (Smokescreen)
Engineer – Reserved by Cypher
Military Attaché - Played by Perilute
Weapons Expert - Played by Dig17
Marine Biologist -Played by NorthernSoul
Archaeologist - Played by Kohananinja
Geneticist - Played by NorthernSoul

Toggle Rules

Be Literate: If the information you want to share warrants a 1500 post so be it. No three sentence posts but there will not be a word-count minimum. This is an advanced role play so I invite you to use that fact as a guide on what you should post.

Post Order: There will be one as soon as everyone posts once. If you can't post, let me know. Even if it's a lame excuse like "I don't want to today." let me know. Do it.

Maturity: This game will deal with adult themes regarding moral, ethical and theological ideas that may offend some. Thinking about romance? Keep it clean and boring.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 1 authors

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In a centre, windowless office two men sat drinking scotch in the low, smoky light. The office was furnished with trappings twenty years out of date. The walls were faux-wood panelled and stained with two decades of cigarette smoke. On their blemished surface hung pictures commemorating various handshakes, a shadow box with four rows of campaign ribbons, twin epaulets of the rank Rear Admiral and a Knighting Order, Star Edward of Roses. Next to the shadowbox was a painting of a Gibraltar Class Battleship; the HMS Starboard Home commissioned in 1947, the first of her class, flagship of the Atlantic Fleet and Freshman command of then Commodore Laurence Milford Addington.

Addington looked at the man seated across from him and smiled. "I want to know how things are progressing, no bullshit just tell me if the numbers are there." The younger man known by all as simply Mister Dawson nodded. "It's coming along, we have some problems with assembly but for the most part two are a lock." Dawson sipped his scotch and picked invisible lint from his tailored grey suit. Addington harrumphed, downed his glass and stood shakily to pour himself another. "The two doctors; Grant and the piss-head? I already know about. Is she a pain in the ass like her father was?" The man asked.

Dawson frowned. "I have only worked with Doctor Nagarajan during her time with ASPs, I never met her father. The cover is still intact I will be contacting her to usher the project along." Addington winced as he sat with a full glass of the twenty-five year old scotch. "Did von Sect give you a man to use to corral this bunch when it finally does bear fruit?" He asked taking a sip of his drink. "I don't want any fuck ups like when we tried this in '95." The other man smiled. "He has a good fit at his disposal, a 'lancer by all rights but a fine asset." The older man slammed his hand on the great wooden desk, making the various accoutrements upon it rattle. "I don't like mercenaries; they are in it for money and little else. They have no conviction. Use a uniform, Duke's Highguard maybe." Dawson shook his head. "A uniform can be traced back to us, Rooster fits the bill."

The older man relented. "I guess you know this business far better than I. After all, I'm just the bastard that writes the cheques." Dawson nodded and smiled taking a manila envelope from his inside jacket pocket and sliding it across to Addington. "These are my people involved in the ruse. The good madam doctor is being activated today and as soon as the email is read, I expect all hell to break free." The older man reached for the envelope, opened it and read the small list. The man furrowed his brow and looked at Dawson. "I admire you trying to contain 190 years of secrets into a 20-year lie, but I worry that this will get worse before it gets better." The two men smiled at each other knowingly.

*****


Doctor Nagarajan yawned. Her morning had been uneventful; a cold, thick fog had ruined her morning jog and the invigorating boost that it afforded. She juggled with her briefcase, purse and aluminium coffee mug to retrieve her ID card to swipe entry into the hospital. Aiia was surprised by the front door whishing open and an unfamiliar security guard greeting her. She offered a casual 'good morning' to the dark featured man whose ID tag read Steve McGill yet the heavy accented reply from the officer betrayed an Arabic air. She smiled. "Are you new?" The man walked back to the entry processing security desk only offering one word 'Transfer'. The Doctor didn't push the issue and put the exchange out of her mind as she boarded the elevator and pushed the 7 button.

The seventh level was a working floor meaning that only laboratories and offices were housed there. Patents were on the first, third and fifth floors. The halls were still in their overnight lighting; an ambient floor-level glow bathed the area making the polished linoleum tile look radioactive. Aiia swiped her card at the key reader to her lab and the LED light remained red, a mechanical double beep noting the door was still locked. She swiped it again, the unblinking red dot endured. The woman frowned. Doctor Nagarajan walked four doors down and swiped her card at the office door. The red light switched to green and the robotic whir of the lock disengaged. She walked in and the glow of her computer tower lights shown through the darkness. Had she forgotten to turn it off? She couldn't remember.

The woman jostled the mouse and instead of the standard log-on screen her desktop greeted her. She frowned again. Sarah, her assistant had a disturbing habit of using her computer instead of the intern’s battered Helmand laptop she always carted around and Aiia assumed this was now the case. She tsk’ed under her breath and immediately checked her email. Several emails that were sent overnight were grey, noting they were read. The woman frowned yet again; confused she saw that in the 'Draft' heading there was a (1) where there was always nothing. Aiia clicked the space and saw an unfinished email open up on the screen, its subject was empty; the body had only a number: 4-4932-27-1.

The Doctor blinked. Such a display was always in the back of her mind, after all she was an asset – or so they had told her. She opened her white silk blouse to the third button and took a small silver key hanging on red string off her neck. Aiia opened her bottom desk drawer, took the file folders and a half drank bottle of water out and placed them on the floor. She took the key in her right hand, removed the false bottom of the drawer with her left and slid the key in the lock. In the space, a red notebook and her German Tac 9mm government issued pistol lay. The notebook was as unused as the pistol; she recalled only giving the items a cursory glance when she received them. Now she held the book, leafed to the forth section, surveyed the jumble of numbers, found 4932 and then turned to page 27, section 1.

Her name was to be "Louise Quinn" she was given a fraudulent email account at a fabricated website. Doctor Nagarajan was now a member of http://www.prettycatblankets.idi and wanted to change her password to Insert DRAW ID Here. That information was jotted down in the front cover of the notebook; she set up the email, sending it to admin@prettycatblankets.idi. Within a moment she had her response.

"ASP-110-328-44716," The email began, ASP being part of the government alphabet soup of acronyms they all seemed to be fond of; ASPs or Agency of Scientific Pacification was what Aiia was a part of during a very dark period of her life.

"Required Appearance Order 3: Doctor- Director Michael Sung, Liaison Japanese Shogunate, Leeds, BCE- 0113 3475473 ext. 41. RE: Nicaean Pox, complications." She smiled. An RA order 3 was a simple phone call; the subject however was a bit weightier. When she was enlisted in DRAW and the ASPs Doctor Nagarajan was involved with the completion of Virus 935-b with several other virologists and microbiologists, that very virus was utilized against several pockets of the Turkish population to great success. The current administration denied all aspects of biological warfare and when Aiia was released in the civilian world she was given a more "friendly" cover; her real field of study, now woefully taboo. She would put off as long as she could that awkward conversation to Doctor Sung and continued reading.

"There is a person of interest there, Doctor Marcus Grant. Keep him in the fold, his is a Black rating and what will be discussed with you, unless otherwise noted can be shared with him. Tell no one of this correspondence, we will be in touch."

After Grant called her out on some things that made her look foolish, she did some digging and true enough he was rated at a Black security clearance. In fact, if anyone did decide to poke they would find only three held that level of pull; her, Dr. Grant and the Administrator of the hospital. Aiia closed the email program, her minimalistic desktop appeared as her mobile rang. "Doctor Nagarajan." She said flatly. "You got my message then." An unfamiliar voice responded. The woman froze. "Who-" She began, only to be cut off. "It's Dawson." The name unfurled a sliver of recollection and she remembered a DRAW higher-up, overseeing her section and a pair of emerald eyes paired with a pompous demeanour. "You were in my office?" she asked incredulously. Aiia could feel the man smile on the other end of the phone. "Not me, but one of my men." He cleared his throat. "You have any questions?" She sighed. "Oh, about a million." After a lengthy pause he spoke. "Any I can actually answer?"

Was he being cute? She didn’t recall government shadow agency personnel being cute but then Aiia remembered Dawson flirting with her on occasion; they even shared some meals together and he asked her out. Out, like in an honest-to-god date. She declined, when prompted to a reason Aiia had said that to go out with someone she had to know their first name. Calling him 'Mister Dawson' when they were at dinner would make her feel like a prostitute. He distanced himself after her rejection. She was only a girl then and that must have stung to a man that was used to getting what he wanted.

"Hello?" He said tentatively. She inhaled. "How bad is this? What did we find? Why is Grant involved? Did you lock me out of my lab?" Aiia fired off questions with abandon. Dawson laughed. "Whoa. Access to data is restricted, I can tell you this or rather what we think this is, can have the potential to be bad. Grant was working on a similar span of research for us when you were working on the bug. Both of you were retained for a reason, you are being reactivated yet we still want him in the loop." Doctor Nagarajan didn't like the glib answers and certainly didn't like the familiar tone he took with her. "Who is this We, Mister Dawson; that proverbial mouse in your pocket?" She asked, a snarky retort that seemed to stir Dawson. "We Miss Nagarajan is the Crown and your government. We have, as of now - asked for your support but at any time Miss Nagarajan your government can demand your aid and if said aid is not served to us on bended knee We can and will make you disappear." He let this sink in for a moment. "Are we clear Miss Nagarajan?" Dawson barked.

She knew what he had intended in that display. Calling her "Miss" instead of Doctor to discredit her, threats, allusions of duty that delightful governmental chestnut - was to display plainly that she was weak and he was strong. The woman shook her head. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Dawson had made a little sound on the other end which to Aiia sounded like surprise and likely he was dejected just like so many years ago when she didn't go out with him. "You think you can strong arm me because you are some black-suited ghost? I just wanted answers and you instead verbally berate me? Fuck you." She immediately regretted that post script and wished she could take it back.

Dawson took a deep breath and calmly responded. "I can appreciate the unease in which you are called back to service to your King. I can also appreciate you have built a professional career in a field of study in which you have little knowledge, and which is totally fabricated. I can even appreciate that loathing you must feel knowing you personally had a hand in the deaths of almost fifty thousand civilians. I also understand the stress of being an at-large war criminal hunted by not only the Turkish government but several independent human rights agencies." He paused and she heard the click of a lighter. "Well, that is I could appreciate and even feel for you and your plight except things like that don't bother you because We, your government keep those dogs at bay. So you want to be an independent hard-ass, ok you got balls - but when those dogs come, and baby they will; your government will mourn your loss and wonder 'if only'..."

She was stunned and was silent for a good two minutes before responding in a small voice. "W-What does my government need of me?"

"Wait for further instructions, Doctor." Dawson said, disconnecting.

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Charles Town, British Colony of Carolina

Charles Town, British Colony of Carolina by Smokescreen

Parliamentary hub for the Carolina Colony and location of Virgin Queen Hospital, McGill Pharmaceutics, Fort Gruyere Military Academy and Sullies Naval Station

Virgin Queen Hospital

Virgin Queen Hospital by RolePlayGateway

Originally attached to Naval Yard Brixton, and later to Fort Wilhelm Toldler the facility once called "Syphilis Inn" has been in service one way or another for going on 250 years.

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View All » Add Character » 8 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: ROOSTER
Character Portrait: Aiia Nagarajan
Character Portrait: Marcus Grant
Character Portrait: Gabriel 'Biel' Artur
Character Portrait: Professor Gwendolyn Brunswick
Character Portrait: Lia Morton

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Character Portrait: Professor Gwendolyn Brunswick
Professor Gwendolyn Brunswick

"Well I guess it's a little hard to be judgmental once you've studied the Romans."

Character Portrait: Gabriel 'Biel' Artur
Gabriel 'Biel' Artur

I'm not easily shocked. Writing a dissertation on Electrophorus electricus in the Orinoco basin tends to do that to you...

Character Portrait: Marcus Grant
Marcus Grant

Five kilobases later and I'm still bored. What are you going to do about it?

Character Portrait: Aiia Nagarajan
Aiia Nagarajan

Let's check that blood panel

Character Portrait: ROOSTER
ROOSTER

Private Military Contractor hired as a weapon expert

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Character Portrait: ROOSTER
ROOSTER

Private Military Contractor hired as a weapon expert

Character Portrait: Gabriel 'Biel' Artur
Gabriel 'Biel' Artur

I'm not easily shocked. Writing a dissertation on Electrophorus electricus in the Orinoco basin tends to do that to you...

Character Portrait: Professor Gwendolyn Brunswick
Professor Gwendolyn Brunswick

"Well I guess it's a little hard to be judgmental once you've studied the Romans."

Character Portrait: Marcus Grant
Marcus Grant

Five kilobases later and I'm still bored. What are you going to do about it?

Character Portrait: Aiia Nagarajan
Aiia Nagarajan

Let's check that blood panel

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Character Portrait: Marcus Grant
Marcus Grant

Five kilobases later and I'm still bored. What are you going to do about it?

Character Portrait: Aiia Nagarajan
Aiia Nagarajan

Let's check that blood panel

Character Portrait: Professor Gwendolyn Brunswick
Professor Gwendolyn Brunswick

"Well I guess it's a little hard to be judgmental once you've studied the Romans."

Character Portrait: Gabriel 'Biel' Artur
Gabriel 'Biel' Artur

I'm not easily shocked. Writing a dissertation on Electrophorus electricus in the Orinoco basin tends to do that to you...

Character Portrait: ROOSTER
ROOSTER

Private Military Contractor hired as a weapon expert


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Charles Town, British Colony of Carolina

Charles Town, British Colony of Carolina by Smokescreen

Parliamentary hub for the Carolina Colony and location of Virgin Queen Hospital, McGill Pharmaceutics, Fort Gruyere Military Academy and Sullies Naval Station

Virgin Queen Hospital

Virgin Queen Hospital by RolePlayGateway

Originally attached to Naval Yard Brixton, and later to Fort Wilhelm Toldler the facility once called "Syphilis Inn" has been in service one way or another for going on 250 years.

Virgin Queen Hospital

Virgin Queen Hospital Owner: RolePlayGateway

Originally attached to Naval Yard Brixton, and later to Fort Wilhelm Toldler the facility once called "Syphilis Inn" has been in service one way or another for going on 250 years.

Charles Town, British Colony of Carolina

Parliamentary hub for the Carolina Colony and location of Virgin Queen Hospital, McGill Pharmaceutics, Fort Gruyere Military Academy and Sullies Naval Station

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