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The Lucky 13

The Lucky 13

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A team of convicts is recruited from hellish penal colonies with the promise of having their crimes erased, if they survive a suicide mission.

475 readers have visited The Lucky 13 since Irish Wolf created it.

Introduction

Before II go on, this is a continuation of a series of games. Feel free to check out Chapter One and Chapter Two but neither is required to play in this game, as there is a summery in the game description below.

By the year 2432ad, mankind has outgrown their home planet and gone in search of new places of live. First, massive colony ships churned through the airless void of space, powered by nuclear engines, in the late half of the twenty-second century but quickly turning to the beam drive in the early twenty-third. Through the advance of time (and several bloody civil wars on remote planets) Earth and her fledging colonies came under the control of a militaristic regime of the Federation of Man, ruled by a council of generals and admirals. High rank in the armed forces was equal to political power, as officers often were assigned as planetary governors.

Over the years, this government has become fat from the plundering of worlds and bloated with corruption. The entire Federation seemed ready to tear itself apart, when we were faced with our greatest challenge, the Tarnakians. They were the first alien race we encountered, being both humanoid and more then ready to wipe us out of existence.

First contact happened at the colony of Jouy 11, ten years ago. A small fleet, a little bigger then squadron size appeared in orbit above the frontier settlement and sent a handful of transports to the surface. All of the settlers, living in a single city, sent a subspace transmission to the nearest Federation Naval Base and welcomed the visitors with open arms. When a taskforce under Commodore Rumsford arrived several days later, they found every human being slaughtered and the buildings razed.

Medical personal noted in their reports that the colonist’s wounds were caused by a weapon that was similar to current Federation pulselaser technology. It was also noted in the report of Commodore Rumsford that the charred remains of nearly all of the colonies record projectile weapons were found in the destroyed buildings, leading him to believe that it was not a trigger happy local that sparked the slaughter.

While attempts to open negations with these aliens proved unfruitful, making contact was not. Within four standard months (thirty-one days), a dozen worlds had come under naval blockade and suffered invasion from the Tarnakians. The local Planetary Defense Forces had nearly crumbling under the assault by the time the Federation Navy was able to break the blockades and deliver elements of the Federation Armies to join in the defense. After ten years, all of the colonies were returned to full control of the Federation and the glorious forces of mankind had found one planet belonging to the aggressors.

Bomy 8 or Graveyard has it become known, as a well-developed planet, equal to any full member world in the Federation. The Ninth and Sixteenth armies were able to make a beachhead on the southern half of the largest continent and were nearly able to break out with the arrival of Tenth. Strong defensive positions, paired with highly motivated soldiers and a steady stream of new weapons, munitions and armor from a large manufacturing facility in the north, helped the Tarnakains hold their ground.

The arrival of reinforcements from the Federation was delayed, as the war expanded again. Several new assaults on human held world were launched and small raiding parties roamed at will. Armies in route to Bomy 8 were redirected to these new hotspots and others were broken up into planetary garrisons, incase of Tarnakian invasion. Only a trickle of companies and battalions to replace loses suffered by the ground forces could be landed as a result.

The entire campaign was in a stalemate. Although the Tarnakians could keep the Fedoration armies bottled up in their beachhead, they couldn’t launch a large enough counterattack to drive them into sea, because of the orbiting fleet of human warships. The big guns of the naval vessels were able to bombard the planet’s surface, making any large advance suicide.

Now, why couldn’t the navy just blast the manufacturing facility off the crust of Bomy 8? Well, to the untrained eye, it was a clustering of attack satellites in orbit above the facility, with a small detachment of what Federation Intelligence has labeled Tarnakian destroyers and frigates. Theses forces however, are of little threat, for though they have superior weapons for their ground forces, the Federation has a far superior navy.

The real reason is a trio of large energy cannons planetside, which are aimed skywards. During the opening days of the fighting, the heavy cruiser Private Daniels attempted to destroy the satellites but was destroy in turn by a single shot from one of the cannons. If those cannons could be taken out, the navy could pound Bomy 8 into submission and prove to the citizens of Federation that this war was winnable.

Enter Major Robert Rogers. Forced to make a corrupt deal to save some of his men from a court-martial and the hangman’s noose, he volunteered to lead a raid to destroy those great weapons. However, he was denied the Special Forces he would need to perform the task and was instead given permission to recruit thirteen prisoners from the penal colony of Jukau Gamma and a handful of Provosts to keep the inline, with three months to train them.

Talk about slow suicide.

However, the plan went array. After collecting his thirteen convicts, they attempted to mutiny. The bridge of their transport was taken during the night by a half dozen of the scum. Three of the inmates joined Major Rogers and the Naval crew in attempting to regain the ship; Inali Vercona, Charlie Hopkins and a wild boy named Tyler. During the course of the fighting, Tyler disappeared into the bowls of the ship, hunting his fellow inmates for sport.

Robert and the two women attempted to capture the mastermind of the mutiny, a giant of a man, named Alistair. However, to further complicate things, a trio of Tanakian commerce raiders overtook them, breaching the hull and flowing the ship with boarding parties. During the action, they were able to take the giant prisoner but were forced to leave the ship on the only aerospace troop transport (and found a forth convict, a former biologist named Kendra Lawrence) and managed to avoid the fate of the crew and alien raiders. The convicts blow up the ship, believing that their escape would no longer an option.

It was pure luck that saved them, as the air was running out about the transport, a frigate that had been pursuing the Tanakians stumbled upon the wreckage and the distress signal they were broadcasting. That ship took them to a penal colony called Kepa-Lar, where nine more inmates were selected, to replaced those lost aboard the Triumph.

Following Rogers return to the frigate, her commanding officer, a Captain Brianne Meade, saw fit to make an attempt to tame Alistair, by allowing the giant cannibal access to a young woman. As is his nature, Alistair promptly mauled the woman and in the process, devoured several of her fingers and demanded to see Inali, whom was escorted to the brig, with the Major tagging along. During a rather heated conversation between the four of them, the mauled woman was removed from the brig.

As it was, that woman would be wheeled passed the compartment holding the recently acquired convicts, some of who decided to pulled a prison break after overhearing the guards describing Alistair’s attack on the woman and believing them to be taking about Inali. After they arrived at the brig, finding their comrade and commander to be okay, the three rescuers were ordered to be flogged by the Major, in an attempt to placate the ship’s Captain.

The next morning, before the flogging, Rogers attempted to save his convict’s from suffering by getting them doped up. However his plans were foiled by Captain Meade resulting in what was supposed to be a duel between the Major and the Captain, each with three helpers. However Meade used Alistair to replace herself in the fight and after forcing Inali to attend her in the control room for the frigate’s hanger, launched the Major, Alistair and the other six into the void of space.

After using the emergency gear they had been wearing, to sneak back aboard, Rogers and Alistair set aside their vows to kill the other. With the convict Charlie, they acquired weapons and stormed the hanger control room. After a brief struggle, the sailors helping Captain Meade were subdued and the Captain herself brought to her knees. However, before an arrest or revenge could be had, Meade attempted to kill them all with a grenade.

Out of feelings for Inali, Alistair grabbed both Meade and the grenade, before racing out of the control room. In the resulting explosion, both Meade and Alistair were burned, with the giant hitting his head against the bulkhead of the ship, causing memory loss. During this time, the Captain’s goons were busy murdering the remaining convicts.

After Marshal General Meade, the Captain’s father, who was also traveling aboard the frigate, assumed command, Rogers was delivered to the penal colony of, Squarkal V collected new convict’s from it’s population and proceeded to the backwater planet of Londinium, taking several weeks in transit.

Rogers and all thirteen of his convicts (including Alitair, who was at least physical able to begin training) were deposited in a small camp, on one of the uninhabited continents, where a handful of Provosts had been waiting. After a month of vigorous physical training, a shipment of weapons is has arrived, signaling a change of pace.


Alright folks, if you’ve stuck with me so far, good for you. If you haven’t guessed, all playable characters are going to be the prisoners and I might allow a Provost or two. Now, stick around for a description of the penal colony the convicts were on, the planet their from, the Provosts and then character profiles!


Squarkal V

The fifth planet in the Squarkal star system is the only one that could support human life. This ball of rock could be described as Hell, as it orbits not one star but a grand total of three. Night on this planet is when only one sun is in the sky. With a thin, barely breathable atmosphere, the only reason that a penal colony was place here was the rich, abundant supply of minerals.

Where most prisons are built to keep convict in, the prison on Squarkal V was built to keep them out. The prison itself is mostly a tower, with an underground tunnels and a wall inclosing enough space for a shuttle to land. Convicts are released into the wild to fend for themselves. Those that can bring back minerals are given rations of food and water.

Like most other penal colonies, Squarkal V is a dumping ground for murderers, rapists, thieves, political dissenters, smugglers, drug addicts, drug dealers and just about any other criminal (save for military offenders, as they army and navy only have two punishments, floggings and firing squad) of both sexes, to be tossed in and forgotten. It is more then likely that if one is sent there, your file will be lost and orders to release you will never arrive. However, this colony is special in the fact that it only receives convicts from the world of New Victoria.

New Victoria

New Victoria is a well established world within the Federation of Man but does not enjoy the status of a membership planet. Because of it’s history of rebellions and separatist uprisings, it is not a colony but rather an occupied world. This planet is covered with Army bases, in case of rebellion, its police force was stripped away to just about nothing and is “controlled” by corporations using enforcers. Bounty hunters, who answer to the local city government or to corporate paymasters, round up criminals and rebels, to be ship to Squarkal V.

Provosts

The Provosts are a branch of the Federation Armies created for the sole purpose of guarding the penal colonies and manning prisoner transports. A civilian recruited to join them is automatically ranked as a sergeant, as all lower ranks are filled with trustees culled from the prisoners they guard. The standard uniform are black utilities and garrison cap. The main weapons Provosts are armed and trained with are the cudgel, whip and Mark VII pulselaser pistol.

These units bare the motto: Per Virga quod Ferito, With Rod and Lash.





Characters

Army
Major Rogers played by Irish Wolf

Provosts

Prisoners
1 Inali Vercona played by Inerio
2 Alistair “Blood” Bath played by klikxx
3 Charlotte “Charlie” Hopkins played by Kohananinja
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Profiles
There are a couple of things I want to see in character profiles

Under description, I want the following mentioned:
*Age
*Gender
*Physical appearance (everyone will have been issued with utilities; trousers, tee-shirt, button-up shirt, combat boots and patrol cap. If you want to mix in civilian clothing your character was wearing in prison, that’s fine)

Under personality, well I want your character’s personality

Under gear, well that should be empty except for Provost characters

Under History, I want to see;
*Crime
*Sentence
*How many years served
*The details of this person’s life

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The GM of this roleplay hasn't created any rules! You can do whatever you like!

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 4 authors

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The sun peaked over the tops of massive unearthly trees, which looked more like a giant mutated ferns, then the Terran plant they were named after. As the warm rays of the summer gently caressed the planet’s surface, the various small animals began to stir, chirping and squawking to one another. The light also signaled four sleepy Provosts that their shift done and the unsettling night was over. Slowly the prison guards descended from the towers of Fort Jailbird.

Not that they were really guarding a fort but rather something more like a crudely built camp, surrounded by a fence. There were five buildings inside, a small hut for the camp’s commanding officer, a two long buildings used to housed the Provosts and the convicts (separately of course), a storage building for the exercise equipment and one squat structure that was labeled as an armory, which as been empty. Now the fence should be taken into consideration.

It was strange for a place that contained convicted criminals. Between each fence post were four bars. Two of them were placed diagonally to form a large X, with one bar running along to the bottom and one bar running along the top. Each of the bars and fence post was electrified but if one were careful, it would be very easy to slip through. This is because the fence was not there to keep the convicts inside but to keep the local wildlife out and in particular, the Londinium Spider.

Now this native creature is not an Arachnid but does resemble them, looking very much like a jumping spider. There are several key differences though. Firstly, the Londinium Spider has ten legs. Secondly, they have but fours eyes, which are of the normal type, unlike the compound eyes of the Arachnid. However, the third difference is the greatest, seeing as that the Londinium Spider grows to be larger then a draft horse. Hey also do not weave webs but hunt at night, like large solitary cats and sleep during the day.

Major Robert Rogers, formerly of the 9th Regina Light Infantry and currently assigned to a special project by the Federation Council, woke up slowly. It was still early in the morning, or at least it was on Londinium, as it was roughly seven-thirty hours local time. As it was unsafe in the early hours, the camp had shifted everyone’s sleeping pattern to fit the local predators. On a normal day, in about half an hour, the Provosts would be waking the dozen convicts in the bunkhouse, so they could start the five-mile run before breakfast

Yes, there were only twelve of the thirteen convicts in the bunkhouse. The last inmate was nestled right up against the Army Officer, as the cot he slept on didn’t give them a lot of room (it should be noted that everyone had slept in a cot designed for one person). A ghost of a smile passed over his lips, as he watched Inali’s breasts move with each of her breaths.

Moving slowly, the Major lifted his lean and muscular body from the cot, so that he did not disturb his partner. A couple of months ago, he would have laughed at the notion of his caring about Inali Vercona, the prison whore he had recruited from a frozen shithole called Jukau Gamma, for a near suicide mission deep behind enemy lines on a planet far from his home. But you know, surviving mutinies, attacks by alien life forms, attempted murder together and some great sex could change just about anyone’s mind. Maybe just the really great sex would have been enough to make him care about her beauty sleep. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter, not really.

As Rogers started to dress in his utilities, getting on his shorts and pants before he couldn’t help reflect on his mission. He had recruit thirteen convicts, train them and then attempted to destroy a number of defensive installations, on a world held by the Tarnakians, an alien race bent on wiping out humanity. As he went through the mission details in his head, he couldn’t help the look of smoldering anger, as he came to the communication he had received just about a month ago.

It had been about the weapons he was expected to force his convicts to use. Now he wasn’t a big enough fool to think they were going to get the latest and greatest weapons in humanity’s arsenal, like the Mark IV Pulselaser Carbine but he had been think that they’d get the somewhat dangerous Mark Is. This was not the case, they were going to get even older weapons, that used a chemical explosive to fire a projectile from the muzzle of the firearm!

Thankfully the weapons had arrived the day before, while he had the convicts out on a training run. There had been cases and cases of weapons and ammo moved into the camp. There were submachine guns, assault rifles (some of which were outdated army issue and some that must have been local models from the armory they had been stored in), a single light machine gun, a case of what he guessed were sniper rifles and more then a few cases of handguns. The second to last case he opened, had a treasure in it, a Mark I Flechette Cannon.

Now the Mark I had been developed for Federation Special Forces, as an anti-light armor and anti-personal weapon. It rather looked like a Milkor MGL but with ten chambers in the revolving cylinder, as apposed to six. It was loaded with what looked like over-sized shotgun shells, which were packed with flechettes (for those that don't know, a flechette is a pointed steel projectile with a tail, much like a dart). The mark I was removed from service when too many reports came in, of the flechettes going through walls or enemy combatants and killing friendlies.

In the last container, Rogers found just what he was looking for. When he had been informed that he wasn't getting any Pulselasers, he sent bribes out to a few selected quartermasters and arranged for fifteen Mark IV pulselaser pistols to be included in the shipment. The Mark IV was chunkier then his Mark IX, had a slower rate of fire, didn't have a non-lethal setting and burned through a powercell quicker but at least it was a stable weapon, unlike several other variants of the Pulselaser pistol.

The Major stretched. He had given the convicts half of this morning off and he didn’t need to be awake yet but he felt edgy. Maybe it was because everything had been going so smoothly after the rocky start to this mission. Maybe it was because he was going to be handing guns and ammo to criminals, then let them take a day for target practice and hope they didn’t turn on the guards. Maybe it was because he only had a few weeks left on this planet, before he had to lead his misfits into combat.

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#, as written by Inerio
Whenever she seemed to close her eyes Inali's mind couldn't help but drift back to the fiasco that went down a month or so earlier, causing more than half of the team they'd assembled to push up daisies. Perhaps she had survivors guilt or something of the sort, since that particular night seemed to play in her head. Maybe her mind had always worked that way, and the source of her guilt would pop up in her subconscious. But, with all the drugs Inali had been on prior to jail the idea was debatable since she really couldn't be sure what her sober mind's inner workings were exactly. The sight of a charred Alistair being brought onto the rescue ship along with the brief glances of her dead teammates Tony and Cartier(or Valentine, she wasn't sure just what persona the man had died in) flashed through her sleeping mind. These thoughts however, were soon interrupted as Inali felt the mattress shift as she was lulled lightly out of her sleep. Keeping her eyelids closed she could hear the rustling of clothes as Rogers got dressed for the day. She didn't have the heart to allow him to know he'd woken her up, especially after it seemed he had made the effort not to.

When she felt Rogers wasn't looking the woman allowed one eye lid to open ever so slightly so as to get a glimpse of the clock. It was seven thirty, a half an hour before they needed to be awake. A shift in movement caused her to shut her eye once more as footsteps came her way. Inali attempted to keep her breathing slow as Rogers came closer to the bed, her face flushing slightly as she wondered if her sleeping facade was noticed by the Major. Still, curiosity crept up on Inali who couldn't help but wonder what the man was up to. Usually Rogers was the type to monopolize on his sleep, due to the fact that she more often times than not was awake before him. It wasn't to say that Inali was a morning person, more or less that she simply had more energy out of the two. Having a brief inner battle with herself Inali wondered as to whether or not she should inquire about what it was that Rogers was doing. Partly because she wanted him back in bed for the extra thirty minutes and partly because Inali was the type who couldn't stand not knowing things once a question had been presented.

"What are you up to so early?" Inali asked, a bit of humor in her voice as she sat up, bringing her legs over the edge of the bed and a few sheets along with her. She didn't want to sound clingy. . . No, no, that was ridiculous. Inali wasn't a clingy person, never a clingy person actually(the situation between herself and Alistair wasn't considered clingy either, because she wasn't a clinger. At all). No, it was simply because she was curious. On top of that, sounding demanding would probably just make Rogers growl out some answer that barely fit into the English diction before leaving. Thus, Inali opted for her usual flighty tone. Her fingers combed at her hair, with was in slightly disarray as she looked at the Major from the other side of the room.

"Off to do some military business?" She asked casually, before covering her mouth just before a yawn emerged and stretching. "Leaving me all alone?" She prodded after the yawn, a smirk on her face as she did so. "We all know what happens when you leave me alone Rogers." The use of his last name was a bit new in their dynamic. Inali only called him this when they were alone, but she still felt somewhat odd calling him something other than Major and thus opted to use his surname.

"If you do I might go off and get myself in trouble." This was true. Inali was a trouble magnet. Though, with Alistair in his current state there wasn't much trouble to get into. The man wasn't anything at all like his former self and seemed to have no interest in plotting against the team. It was almost dismaying to the woman. It was as if their secret bond had been broken by his sudden memory loss. Still, Inali wasn't about to let the poor giant out of her life so easily.

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#, as written by klikxx
The lumbering giant leaned forward bracing himself over using the tiny white porcelain sink for balance. The effects of the drugs had made him weak. Once again the fight was knocked out of him. It was better that way he thought considering the talk but he wasn’t going to let it hold him back from the morning run. Reaching forward he clumsily turned the tap and began to flush his face with cold water that rushed forth. Bringing a hand to the mirror he made a few quick circles in the fog revealing his reflection.

The cold electric blue colored eyes studied the unfamiliar face in front of him. He curiously poked a thick elongated finger into his mouth probing the crudely sharpened teeth. Had he been the monster they claimed him to be? His mind was still in a thick fog from the medications he had been administered for the pain. He could not remember the circumstances that brought him here, not that it mattered really; it only carried with it more questions.

Most accounts were the same but he couldn’t accept the fact of the man they claimed him to be. She said he was this way from a run- in with an incinerary grenade saving her and the others. The she being the persistent five foot four visitor caramel colored inmate Inali that insisted he was one of them. This Alistair was determined to be something different.

If he was the animal they described how was that even possible?

Rubbing the course strawberry-blonde stubble that adorned his jaw amid the raised dark red scar tissue he ascertained it didn’t have to be that way. He could change; it was a matter of will. Looking past his reflection he could now see the neatly hung military utilities behind him.

Reaching around, he wrestled the light green trousers off the hangar and pulled the freshly pressed pants up over his boxers. Next, he quickly and efficiently laced up the pristinely kept combat boots that adorned his feet. The lower half of his wardrobe complete the wanna-be soldier swung the light green jacket over a fresh white tee shirt giving the covering one final tug to straighten the wrinkles from dressing.

Uniform complete the behemoth man adjusted the snug fitting patrol cap over the steel plate riveted to his skull. He stood feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back long before the others reluctantly rolled out of their racks. There he waited stock-still. She would undoubtedly she would be here soon enough.

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"You" said Rogers, “Would get into trouble even if I handcuffed you to my belt or led you around on a leash.”

The Major paused in the act of picking up his under tee, a very pleasing mental image had entered his mind, as soon as he finished speaking. He had been wearing a different uniform, covered with gold braid, metals and baring the insignia of a Marshal General. He had been walking through the halls of a regional military governor’s place, flanked by bodyguard of elite troopers and Inali. She had been deck out in a tiny costume of woven precious metals and jewelry that glittered with the facets of hundreds of gems. A collar was around her neck and was attached to his belt by thin chain of gold.

A smile spread over the army officer’s face, as he turned to look the convict. It stayed there, even though his facial muscles wanted to return to the normal emotionless mask. A strange thought bubbled up from somewhere in the recesses of his subconscious. It was a compelling urge to walk back to the bed, lean down and give the (now former) prison whore a kiss. Maybe it was because he had never really kissed her before, unlike the other women he had bedded in his life and such an act was part of his definition of sexual conquest? Sure there had been plenty of tongue wrestling matches during their encounters over the past few months but it had always been within the act of pleasure. There had never been anything close to a quick "Hello" kiss or a "Good Morning" peck on the cheek or a “Oh My God, I Love You” smoochfest.

For some reason, it felt like Robert’s heart was beating a little faster. He was getting close to the age (although he was a decade younger) when his father started having heart problems, wouldn't that be a wonderful bonus to his suicide mission. There was no way it had anything to do with the last kind of kiss he had been thinking about. He did not have any feelings for the woman in his bed other then lust. There was no way he was getting attached.

“I’m edgy” Rogers said, finally pulling the tee over his head, “And want to practice my martial arts. I do have some gossip that you can spread among the others. I’m going to be handing out guns this morning.”

Grabbing his combat knife, the Major exited his hut, leaving his shirt and patrol cap behind.

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Mornings sucked, and Charlie desperately wanted coffee. Well, perhaps mornings weren’t the right term, with this planet’s messed up time zones, but it was a general rule amongst the inmates that noon talked to Charlie until after she’d had coffee and finished their run unless they wanted their heads bit off. This entire planet in general just made her cranky, being the polar opposite to Jukau Gamma. And while she wasn’t planning a return trip to the decommissioned icy hell of a planet, cold she could at least handle. Ywan, a mostly urban metal infested planet, had also been known for constant cold and rainy weather, so Charlie had always been used to colder climates. This heat however, she was not, and it was making her a little bit more than grumpy.

Charlie was always one of the first ones up, ensuring plenty of cold water for a quick shower that acted, if only for a short time, as a light shield against the heat during the “morning” run. Once she had finished, she quickly dressed in pants and a tank top with her second hand army issued combat boots, before tying her dark hair back into a ponytail. The next order of business; coffee. That accompanied with a light breakfast of whatever the Major could manage to make the army give them marked her morning ritual.

And there was Alistair, another early riser. How to deal with the lumbering memory devoid giant was a bit confusing all things considered. Did lack of knowledge or memory of one’s sins absolve or condemn regardless? Tough question, though acting hostile towards a confused and blank man was probably not the best way to get him to watch her back in combat, not to mention (however much she disliked it) he’d saved all their lives. Kind of ironic. And so Charlie was perhaps not as cold to the new army boy Alistair as the major and the others were, but she wasn’t exactly cozying up to him either. She was all for giving the big guy teammate status, but she wasn’t going to be the dumb shit that got stuck alone with him when Mr. homicidal cannibal came back with a vengeance. There was an old folk tale about a scorpion and a frog that when boiled down, meant people always revert back to their nature, no matter what, and she wasn’t about to be the one to put that particular proverb to the test.

"Spiffy." Charlie greeted cordially with her recent nickname for Alistair 2.0, before taking a sip of her coffee. “You’re up early are usual. Want some joe?”

In the corner, sat a third early riser Charlie knew to be called Katrina Watkins. She was one of the new additions to the crew, and Charlie knew very little about her, which both bothered and intrigued her. When Charlie’s tried to look up the file on the quiet half dazed looking convict, she’d found the file had been kept under confidential, and therefore out of her reach. The Major was probably the only one in their group who’d seen the file, which irked her, as she didn’t like not having information when someone else did. By now she’d come to trust the Major, perhaps it was even mutual, but she knew there was no respect for her in anyway either. No matter what, she was still convict scum to him, and that bothered her immensely. Perhaps it was being lumped into the same category as the ilk from Jukau Gamma, but nothing made her temper rise faster.

What Charlie did know about Katrina was from pure observation, and it was obvious to anyone who came in contact with her, that Katrina was not all there. Most of the time she was very quiet with a blank kind of look, and she wouldn’t speak unless someone attempted conversation (which was always limited) or issued an order. But there were times when she had episodes, violent ones that usually say her destroying a piece of furniture, or violently shivering in a corner. What bothered Charlie the most though, were her screams, they were the tortured blood curdling kind that made Charlie both perversely curious, and nervous about her past. The only thing Charlie was sure about Katrina Watson, was that her past had been extremely bloody, enough apparently to deteriorate her mind to the point of the near willess soldier that sat before her.

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#, as written by Inerio
“You would get into trouble even if I handcuffed you to my belt or led you around on a leash.”

Either Roger's was thinking what Inali was thinking when this was said, or he was finally having murder fantasies, because the smile that crept across his face as he looked at her made her rather uncomfortable. It wasn't even that he smiling at her, more so that he was just smiling in general for such a long time. It wasn't like him and Inali averted her eyes and fiddled wit the blanket until he turned around.

The time alone not spent diddling one another between Inali and the Major was always a bit awkward. There was tension, which was odd considering they were sharing a bed every night along with being in life or death situations several times. It was a tension that, much to Inali's dismay, gratuitous amounts of sex didn't seem to fix. A creeping feeling that perhaps there was something more to it but--No. No, no, no, no, no. That wasn't it, Inali shook the feeling away as a chill ran down her spine. The Major was probably this way with everyone.

“I’m edgy, and want to practice my martial arts. I do have some gossip that you can spread among the others. I’m going to be handing out guns this morning.”

Inali looked up the Major, her brow furrowed as he broke the giant bundle of nerves that had piled up in the room. She was midway between wanting to run off to tell the others about this juicy piece of gossip and wanting to follow the Major. It was a tough decision, but she hadn't been pestering the older man as much as she'd have liked. And while she did feel guilty about not visiting Al that morning she did want to be one of the first inmates to get her paws on a gun.

Besides, she thought as she scrambled to get dressed, she had plans for Al. Not evil "destroy another ship" plans like Meade had. No, she just had a clever little ploy to get her old friend back. It didn't matter how much she visited him, her old friend wasn't coming back any time soon. But, Inali had a feeling she knew how to speed up the process.

"Hey!" Inali called out, still wiggling into her top as she left the hut. "I'm coming with you." She informed the Major, jogging up to him. "And, no, there really isn't much you can do about it. Besides, you honestly can't say you don't want me by your side." She added the last bit in a sly tone, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow in a you-know-I'm-right manner.

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Inali was only half right. There were plenty of things that Rogers could do, if he really didn’t want the convict following him around. Like ordering a few of his Provost lackeys to haul her away or just ordering them to hand over a few pairs of handcuffs. She was right about him wanting her by his side. Having an attractive woman around was always a pleasure and a little more training was only going to increase their likelihood surviving the looming slaughter.

Besides, a little one on one with the convict would allow him to get his hands on her.

Not that he really needed an excuse or reason to touch her. Hell they just could have stayed inside his hut and spend a few hours in a pleasurable bliss. However, the tease of ritualized combat would add a little extra kink to any intimacy to be had. Maybe they would have to break out some of the equipment in the shed, like the padded mats used to practice takedowns and tackles.

“Alright” growled Robert, trying to sound grumpy, “You can tag along.”

------------------------

Two hours and a quick shower later, Rogers was back inside his hut, dressing again. A fresh set of utilities, lacking dust and sweat stains was quickly pulled on, along with his patrol cap. His combat knife and pulselaser pistol were belted around his waist, a fully charged powercell locked into the grip of the weapon. Tucked into the corner of his mouth was a cigarillo, small wisps of smoke drifting away from the smoldering tip. He looked ready to kick ass and conquer worlds by the might of his appearance alone. At least his corpse would look good.

There was still a nagging doubt about Alistair. His seeming one-eighty turn about in persona, well it just wasn’t convincing. After the drooling simpleton the giant had used to cover his true self, which had been damn convincing, who could say that this perfect soldier boy, wasn’t more then just a decoy. Would the cunning, woman-eating beast turn on all of them the moment he got his large paws on a firearm? How many of his fellow convicts had been convinced to join him in slaughtering the guards and attempting to survive off the very hostile land?

Waving for Inali to follow, the Major opened the door and walked across the compound to the Armory. The rest of the convict platoon was suppose to be forming up in front of that building at ten-thirty, which was in a few minutes. A few of the Provosts had set up a number of tables, one which they were in the process of laying out examples of each kind of firearm they had received in the shipment the other day; submarchine guns, machine pistols, assault rifles, combat shotguns, semi-automatic pistols, the single light machinegun and the Mark I Flechette Cannon. Still sitting in their crate, were the fifteen Mark IV pulselaser pistols.

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View All » Add Character » 6 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Robert Rogers
Character Portrait: Inali Vercona
Character Portrait: Charlotte ???Charlie??? Hopkins
Character Portrait: Pirvate Katrina Watson
Character Portrait: Alistair "Blood" Bath

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Character Portrait: Alistair "Blood" Bath
Alistair "Blood" Bath

If the brilliant intellect that once defined the man is still inside one can only speculate on what is to come next.

Character Portrait: Pirvate Katrina Watson
Pirvate Katrina Watson

Former army soldier turned lab guinea pig due to an unfortunate case of Schizophrenia.

Character Portrait: Charlotte ???Charlie??? Hopkins
Charlotte ???Charlie??? Hopkins

Mechanic from the Planet Yuwan with a mind for revenge, and only one person left to loose.

Character Portrait: Inali Vercona
Inali Vercona

The semi-reliable token whore

Character Portrait: Robert Rogers
Robert Rogers

A Major in the 9th Regina Light Infantry, sent on a suicide mission.

Trending

Character Portrait: Pirvate Katrina Watson
Pirvate Katrina Watson

Former army soldier turned lab guinea pig due to an unfortunate case of Schizophrenia.

Character Portrait: Alistair "Blood" Bath
Alistair "Blood" Bath

If the brilliant intellect that once defined the man is still inside one can only speculate on what is to come next.

Character Portrait: Robert Rogers
Robert Rogers

A Major in the 9th Regina Light Infantry, sent on a suicide mission.

Character Portrait: Inali Vercona
Inali Vercona

The semi-reliable token whore

Character Portrait: Charlotte ???Charlie??? Hopkins
Charlotte ???Charlie??? Hopkins

Mechanic from the Planet Yuwan with a mind for revenge, and only one person left to loose.

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Robert Rogers
Robert Rogers

A Major in the 9th Regina Light Infantry, sent on a suicide mission.

Character Portrait: Pirvate Katrina Watson
Pirvate Katrina Watson

Former army soldier turned lab guinea pig due to an unfortunate case of Schizophrenia.

Character Portrait: Inali Vercona
Inali Vercona

The semi-reliable token whore

Character Portrait: Charlotte ???Charlie??? Hopkins
Charlotte ???Charlie??? Hopkins

Mechanic from the Planet Yuwan with a mind for revenge, and only one person left to loose.

Character Portrait: Alistair "Blood" Bath
Alistair "Blood" Bath

If the brilliant intellect that once defined the man is still inside one can only speculate on what is to come next.


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Re: [OOC] The Lucky 13

Perhaps we should put up an interest check to attract some fresh (but literate) blood.

[OOC] The Lucky 13

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