Stefan went on to mention that he read a lot of literature as a child and even made a reference to Sherlock Holmes. This brought Jonathan back to a far memory from when he was a child. His mother worked many jobs at once just to support family life but there was one job where she would be a cleaner at some elementary school in downtown San Francisco. There was a library in the elementary school for the kids and when it is evening and she's cleaning there, she would take a few to read to young Jonathan when she got back. She would have to get up early in the morning for another job but she would read to Jonathan all night. One of his favorite books was The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S Lewis. It was a magical book for little Jonathan Rodriguez. He would be amazed at the thought of being in a completely different world, right at the back of one's wardrobe. It has been a long time since he has reminisced about such a memory. It's good to expose yourself to a piece of nostalgia now and then.
He nodded politely at Stefan's mention of literature. During the time that Stefan was mentioning it, another person had entered the dining room. He seemed to be quiet a strong man, a fit man. Someone who seemed to have seen combat. The hair gave it away as it was very, very short and had the infamous mark of military barbers. This man was a soldier, but what did he do? He took his place at the table like everyone else who had arrived so far. The team was nearing full from the looks of it. There may be more people but he remembers most people from the boat and this might nearly be it. The size of the team tells him of a massive operation that could be commencing. Jonathan was more curious by the minute to find out. The only one he has spoken too so far was Stefan, who seemed dependent and polite. A key step in working together.
Stefan continued by answering Jonathan's question. His answer was a surprising one. He was a historian. He wasn't objective to the job itself; it's actually quite an interesting occupation to Jonathan but it was the fact that a historian has been called to this mysterious island in a group mixed with combat and, now, academics. What is this strange job that they have all been called to do? Who is the person organizing this? His intrigue grew wild as he continues listening to Stefan. He mentioned that he has lived in both East and West Germany. Quite impressive thought Jonathan. As a teenager, he had read on the cold war in Germany. He finds it quite amazing to meet someone who has experienced life on both sides.
"Wow, East Germany. I have always read about the cold war as a teenager but it's quite impressive to meet someone who lived right in the middle of it." Says Jonathan. "I worked as a detective for the SFPD for many years but recently I left for...a personal reason." He hesitated with trying to mention a reason. He's only known the man the man for five minutes, he isn't going to mention that he had a personal vendetta on the people who murdered his mother. "Now I work as a private investigator. Been doing it for a couple years. It's low pay but it provides freedom, I'll give it that." He then started tapping his fingers on the table as a sign of waiting and very minor impatience. His inquiring mind was starting to overpower his patience. Who is the host?
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Azena said
Would explain why historically it was "lost" that bugger stole it and sold it off piece by piece to avoid suspicion.
Exactly
Jannah said
Maybe a scenario where some deranged person goes back and attempts to talk the Nazis out of invading Russia? I think that's pretty important since if it wasn't for the invasion of Russia there's a good chance Germany could have won. Or if we want to go further back I'd love to do something in the medieval period, perhaps the Crusades era.
Actually speaking of crusades, maybe someone could have gone back and try to uncover the Templar treasure that they tried to hide from King Philip. According to legend it was later lost but if somebody managed to steal it before it was lost then that person would be a rich bugger.
Seravee said
When I wrote about Pompeii, I had my characters go back to stop a single individual who thought he could warn/save everyone. Obviously he was mistaken, as he doesn't even know the language. But it made for a fun short visit. We catch him, take his machine, etc.
Fair enough :)
Marrow said
they could try to convince to people to evacuate, that would seriously affect the worlds population by both number and evolution, not even to mention the art and knowledge that will be either lost or gained
They could try to convince a whole town to evacuate but people would think that person warning them was crazy and there wasn't exactly the technology back then to prove that it was going to explode. Plus the tremors that occur before the explosion would have been seen as a sign from the gods and not a sign of eruption and the Romans were very stubborn with their believes.
Fat Boy Kyle said
Nice post :)BUT! I found the present tense really annoying xP
Sorry, I'm tired and I forgot to go over it. I'll correct it back to full past tense tomorrow. :)
My post is up! :D Sorry about the length, I got into the character too much. :)
Forgive any typos as I was working non stop and I forgot to check it over.
Forgive any typos as I was working non stop and I forgot to check it over.
2 February, 1928
0916 hours
Hotel National, 6th floor- Moscow
The view in front of him was daunting tragic and dark. A veil of black has cast over the majestic city of Moscow. The Chimeran ships were creeping in the distance like a curse. Creatures that were born within the nightmares of men were tearing apart reality. The sky was lit with amber and red, representing desolation, devastation and destruction. Women and children were evacuated but the inevitable fate of his comrades will strike them as hard as metal. The end of the hammer and sickle was here.
Oleg settled himself up at the corner window of the first floor. A Vantage point was gifted to them from this position. Suppressing fire was needed to push the abominations back. The end may be here but the seed of Mother Russia will not be removed so easily. Like Lenin and Marx, they will strike a blow for the hammer and sickle once more. His comrade, Nikolai, brought the hammer that was needed to put down the nail: a Gatling gun. A few were stolen by a Russian smuggler during the turn of the 20th century. They will prove useful in the defence against the Chimera. Oleg smashed the window open to quickly give an open window of opportunity. Down below was the kill zone: A perfect view of a road junction. The Chimera are crawling there towards this trap and it’s the perfect time to slaughter them. Nikolai started getting the tripod set up and Gatling gun ready. They both wanted vengeance on the Chimera. They took their comrades and changed them into monsters. People, who they ate with, drank with, laughed with and even cried with. Those people were butchered and turned into rabid animals. The perfect torture: killing your former friends to save your life, day after day. A cold heart is born after that.
Nikolai managed to promptly to set up the weapon. He then started packing it with the ammo until it was full.
“The weapon is nearly ready. We’ll score one for our fallen comrades after this. Those fucking demons will crawl back down to hell after this.” He stated enthusiastically.
“Comrade, this’ll strike a hit against the chimera. It’s not going to end the war. We’ll take as many as we can to give our comrades back at base comrade a chance.” Stated Oleg. He gave a reassuring pat on the shoulder to Nikolai. He nodded in return.
The gun was ready and was aiming down at the death space. Oleg held the ammo and Nikolai started aiming at the junction. The movement of the chimera could be heard from miles away. It was an alarming and terrifying sound that sends fear to legs. Oleg held his fingers up and started counting down silently. The chimera were moving in, they were running down with fateful glee. Three. Two. One. Fire started to rain down on them, hammering them down like Mother Russia’s natural tool. They started dispersing for covering, some getting shredded to pieces as little pieces of metal rip their devilish organs apart. They laughed. They laughed and laughed as irony hit the Chimera like an anvil. Fate has never been more wicked.
The fun was short lived after Oleg spotted a rocket launcher being held by one of the Chimeran foot soldiers on one of the partly-destroyed buildings from afar. The rocket launcher was a wildfire, he had seen them used many times to incinerate Russian tanks. Oleg desperately shouted to Nikolai to aim at the danger but it was too late. The moments before impact slowed down for Oleg. He could see the rocket coming towards the building. It was death in the shape of missile. It was lady luck saying good-bye. Any movement for safety is deemed surplus. The rocket hit the floor below them. The floor swallowed them down towards a black abyss of darkness and departure.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
12 July, 1951
0200 hours
Overton Wood-Yorkshire
Oleg woke up a sudden distress and trepidation. The flashback returned. Every night he sees memory. A memory of horror and panic as he sees his friends and country reduced to a mere wasteland of isolation and darkness. Mother Russia was raped, violated and ripped open by the Chimeran scourge. This thought races his mind every second that he lives. He is being toyed with by some deity in the sky that is laughing down on his existence. He survives while everyone he knows is mutilated by a cancer that is sweeping lands like wildfire. He wasn’t blinded by the war, yet all he sees is black.
Oleg rubs his eyes and sits himself up. He is in a wardrobe in some luckless family’s house. He choose to sleep here to be hidden from the watchful eye of Chimeran scouts. They search for individual soldiers that have been cut off from their platoon like a weak deer from the pack. Like the dominant predators that they have become, the Chimera claims their prizes and uses them as they see fit. They can kill them on the spot, they can take them to the nearest conversion centre or sometimes eat them right there and then like the crazed creatures that they are. However, Oleg was no weakling. He was Russian. He had the heart of Marx and the blood of Lenin running through his veins. He is a child of Siberian wasteland and wielder of the hammer and sickle. He knows theses monsters for too long. He jots down their ways, movements, anatomies, thinking process, military strategies and even their types and names right down in a journal in his pocket. He is now a survivor by heart and he needs to know his enemy or otherwise he is fighting blind.
He peeks open the wardrobe door and starts listening intently for movement in the house. He keeps listening for the slightest pitter-patter of danger that might jump Oleg with a catastrophic surprise. After a few minutes of concentrating the sounds, he believes that it is safe. He stands up and opens the wardrobe door. He is met with pungent smell of dust and desertion. The house has been abandoned for around a year now and it has grown into the ruined remains that lie before him. The house was an individual house that was located in Overton wood. Due to the seclusion of the area, the house was barely touched by the threats of the outside world. He was lucky to be blessed with a place like this but Oleg is itched by a habit of his. He never stays in one place. He’s always on the move, always on the run. It has kept him alive for over two decades. His natural ability to survive is both a blessing and a curse.
He reaches for his M5A2 Folsom Carbine; which he salvaged of a dead American soldier. A key to survival is salvage. Nothing is ever useless; there is a purpose to everything that you can find. He takes the gun and places it gently on his rifle holster on his back. He reached for his lightweight pack and started carrying it on his shoulder. Oleg slowly makes his way towards the broken window, to get a good knowledge of the current state of the outside. It was the same as always: quiet and eerie with the suspicion of peril but in the distance you can see the flashing lights in the night of the city of York as the British and American forces dances for its survival. Oleg was not interested in the war between the Chimera and the British-Americans. He had already seen the inevitably of loss and he was not willing to experience it again. He still sees it every night. No more. He walks downstairs towards the front door, every step releases a ghost of dust and a cry of creek as he walks towards the exit. He opens the door and is met with infamous British weather. He was smacked in the face by the wind and was greeted by the sight of black barbarous night sky. Fitting thought Oleg.
He walked down the small pathway, making his way past the overgrown jungle that was the front garden. He walk towards the gate and vaulted over it; the rust that has grown its position on the metal gate has caused it to be unable to open. He was standing in the middle of the gravelly, dirty road. It was filled with cracks that represent the state of this war. Both roads to his left and right were very open. He would be easily seen and an easy target for the chimera. It was a death-trap either way. Oleg sighed and decided to walk through the woods in front of him. It was a large forest and a dark forest but it provided cover for him as he makes his way across the English countryside. He makes his step into the forest, with illusion of a safe haven trapped in his destitute mind.
He has been walking for about 10-15 minutes now. The forest looked like something from back home. Due to lack of human activity, it had grown wild, huge and was practically a rainforest. It reminded him of the jungles in the south of Russia, near the Kazakhstan border. Oleg was amazed by this forest. It was majestic, natural and peaceful. It was captivating; he couldn’t take his eyes of the height of the trees above. He remembers going on fishing trips with his uncle back when he was a teenager. They would take long walks up the river Vyatka and they would travel through many hardships to get to the perfect spot. It was a sweet memory. An old memory that for a brief moment, it made him forget the war and misery. Like every speck of hope, it was short lived as he trips and tumbles down a small hill that he did not see because he simply wasn’t looking in the dark. A mistake that he will not make again.
He reaches to the bottom of the hill and at the bottom was some sort of road. It was a dirty back-road that is used to get across country quicker. It wasn’t an official paved road. Oleg gave a groan of embarrassment and stood himself up. He was fine and unharmed. He took a quick look around. The road seemed to cut through the forest like a knife through butter. It carved the forest. He was then met with the sound of a vehicle approaching from behind. He's see's the bright headlights of it as it looms towards him. Oleg’s natural reactions turned quickly around as he faces the vehicle. His agility was able to instantly reach for his rifle and point it out at the unknown assailant driving the vehicle. The vehicle made a rapid stop in front of him. It was a simple military jeep with a high calibre machine gun attached to the top. One man was driving and the other was manning the large weapon. From their uniforms, he could tell that they were both British soldiers. One of them aimed the machine gun at Oleg and the other stood up from the seat and aimed his rifle at Oleg.
“Oi! What the hell are you playing at! Put down the weapon!” Shouted the driver. Oleg refused to budge from his position and kept his focus on the driver.
“Didn’t you ‘ear him! He said drop it!” Backed up the machine gunner. He seemed young and inexperienced. Oleg could tell the fear in his eyes and the anxiety running through his fingers. He was going to shoot out of fright and Oleg knows he can’t take two at a time. He swallowed his pride and places his weapon down.
“That’s good. Now ‘ands behind your ‘ead.” Oleg obliges. The worst that will happen is they‘ll get attacked and Oleg will use this too escape. It’s not his first run in with the British military. The driver started looking strangely and suspiciously at Oleg. He jumps out of the vehicle and moves closer to him. He was in his face and was looking at him intently.
“Your clothes isn’t military made. What’s your name?” Asks the driver. Oleg doesn’t answer he stands his ground and keeps a straight face.
“Oi! I asked you a question!” Oleg still doesn’t budge. He holds strong and true and refuses to speak. The driver moves out of the way and gives a nod to the young machine-gunner. He seems to give a smile as he instantly shoots the ground in front of Oleg. This causes him to fall back onto the ground. He was now on his back as the British military tries to threaten him.
“Now then, let’s try again...what is your name?” Oleg looks at him. He doesn’t want to reveal his name but he doesn’t want a stomach pumped with lead. He simply shouts one thing in the hopes that they’ll leave him alone.
“I am not infected, so why does my name matter!” He shouts this right into the face of the British soldier. He hasn’t spoken to anyone in years. It feels quite liberating, even in his situation. The British seem confused and amazed. Something in Oleg’s voice has made him speechless.
“Wait...I haven’t heard of that accent since I was a boy. You’re Russian!” This realization brought an array of awe across his face. It was like he had discovered the Holy Grail. He looks towards his partner.
“We’re going to have to show them this.” The machine gunner nodded. The driver then tried to pick Oleg up. “You’re coming us.” Oleg didn’t want to go with them. He would rather not be interrogated like a common criminal. What will his knowledge tell him that they don’t already know. He then punches the soldier in the face and tries to stand up. The British soldier’s resilience to the punch was quite admirable as he was then able to quickly take the butt of his gun and smack Oleg in the face.
Oleg is left on the ground unconscious and, basically, kidnapped. The soldiers load him in the vehicle and started transporting him to York base during the night. What will Oleg encounter on his arrival?
0916 hours
Hotel National, 6th floor- Moscow
The view in front of him was daunting tragic and dark. A veil of black has cast over the majestic city of Moscow. The Chimeran ships were creeping in the distance like a curse. Creatures that were born within the nightmares of men were tearing apart reality. The sky was lit with amber and red, representing desolation, devastation and destruction. Women and children were evacuated but the inevitable fate of his comrades will strike them as hard as metal. The end of the hammer and sickle was here.
Oleg settled himself up at the corner window of the first floor. A Vantage point was gifted to them from this position. Suppressing fire was needed to push the abominations back. The end may be here but the seed of Mother Russia will not be removed so easily. Like Lenin and Marx, they will strike a blow for the hammer and sickle once more. His comrade, Nikolai, brought the hammer that was needed to put down the nail: a Gatling gun. A few were stolen by a Russian smuggler during the turn of the 20th century. They will prove useful in the defence against the Chimera. Oleg smashed the window open to quickly give an open window of opportunity. Down below was the kill zone: A perfect view of a road junction. The Chimera are crawling there towards this trap and it’s the perfect time to slaughter them. Nikolai started getting the tripod set up and Gatling gun ready. They both wanted vengeance on the Chimera. They took their comrades and changed them into monsters. People, who they ate with, drank with, laughed with and even cried with. Those people were butchered and turned into rabid animals. The perfect torture: killing your former friends to save your life, day after day. A cold heart is born after that.
Nikolai managed to promptly to set up the weapon. He then started packing it with the ammo until it was full.
“The weapon is nearly ready. We’ll score one for our fallen comrades after this. Those fucking demons will crawl back down to hell after this.” He stated enthusiastically.
“Comrade, this’ll strike a hit against the chimera. It’s not going to end the war. We’ll take as many as we can to give our comrades back at base comrade a chance.” Stated Oleg. He gave a reassuring pat on the shoulder to Nikolai. He nodded in return.
The gun was ready and was aiming down at the death space. Oleg held the ammo and Nikolai started aiming at the junction. The movement of the chimera could be heard from miles away. It was an alarming and terrifying sound that sends fear to legs. Oleg held his fingers up and started counting down silently. The chimera were moving in, they were running down with fateful glee. Three. Two. One. Fire started to rain down on them, hammering them down like Mother Russia’s natural tool. They started dispersing for covering, some getting shredded to pieces as little pieces of metal rip their devilish organs apart. They laughed. They laughed and laughed as irony hit the Chimera like an anvil. Fate has never been more wicked.
The fun was short lived after Oleg spotted a rocket launcher being held by one of the Chimeran foot soldiers on one of the partly-destroyed buildings from afar. The rocket launcher was a wildfire, he had seen them used many times to incinerate Russian tanks. Oleg desperately shouted to Nikolai to aim at the danger but it was too late. The moments before impact slowed down for Oleg. He could see the rocket coming towards the building. It was death in the shape of missile. It was lady luck saying good-bye. Any movement for safety is deemed surplus. The rocket hit the floor below them. The floor swallowed them down towards a black abyss of darkness and departure.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
12 July, 1951
0200 hours
Overton Wood-Yorkshire
Oleg woke up a sudden distress and trepidation. The flashback returned. Every night he sees memory. A memory of horror and panic as he sees his friends and country reduced to a mere wasteland of isolation and darkness. Mother Russia was raped, violated and ripped open by the Chimeran scourge. This thought races his mind every second that he lives. He is being toyed with by some deity in the sky that is laughing down on his existence. He survives while everyone he knows is mutilated by a cancer that is sweeping lands like wildfire. He wasn’t blinded by the war, yet all he sees is black.
Oleg rubs his eyes and sits himself up. He is in a wardrobe in some luckless family’s house. He choose to sleep here to be hidden from the watchful eye of Chimeran scouts. They search for individual soldiers that have been cut off from their platoon like a weak deer from the pack. Like the dominant predators that they have become, the Chimera claims their prizes and uses them as they see fit. They can kill them on the spot, they can take them to the nearest conversion centre or sometimes eat them right there and then like the crazed creatures that they are. However, Oleg was no weakling. He was Russian. He had the heart of Marx and the blood of Lenin running through his veins. He is a child of Siberian wasteland and wielder of the hammer and sickle. He knows theses monsters for too long. He jots down their ways, movements, anatomies, thinking process, military strategies and even their types and names right down in a journal in his pocket. He is now a survivor by heart and he needs to know his enemy or otherwise he is fighting blind.
He peeks open the wardrobe door and starts listening intently for movement in the house. He keeps listening for the slightest pitter-patter of danger that might jump Oleg with a catastrophic surprise. After a few minutes of concentrating the sounds, he believes that it is safe. He stands up and opens the wardrobe door. He is met with pungent smell of dust and desertion. The house has been abandoned for around a year now and it has grown into the ruined remains that lie before him. The house was an individual house that was located in Overton wood. Due to the seclusion of the area, the house was barely touched by the threats of the outside world. He was lucky to be blessed with a place like this but Oleg is itched by a habit of his. He never stays in one place. He’s always on the move, always on the run. It has kept him alive for over two decades. His natural ability to survive is both a blessing and a curse.
He reaches for his M5A2 Folsom Carbine; which he salvaged of a dead American soldier. A key to survival is salvage. Nothing is ever useless; there is a purpose to everything that you can find. He takes the gun and places it gently on his rifle holster on his back. He reached for his lightweight pack and started carrying it on his shoulder. Oleg slowly makes his way towards the broken window, to get a good knowledge of the current state of the outside. It was the same as always: quiet and eerie with the suspicion of peril but in the distance you can see the flashing lights in the night of the city of York as the British and American forces dances for its survival. Oleg was not interested in the war between the Chimera and the British-Americans. He had already seen the inevitably of loss and he was not willing to experience it again. He still sees it every night. No more. He walks downstairs towards the front door, every step releases a ghost of dust and a cry of creek as he walks towards the exit. He opens the door and is met with infamous British weather. He was smacked in the face by the wind and was greeted by the sight of black barbarous night sky. Fitting thought Oleg.
He walked down the small pathway, making his way past the overgrown jungle that was the front garden. He walk towards the gate and vaulted over it; the rust that has grown its position on the metal gate has caused it to be unable to open. He was standing in the middle of the gravelly, dirty road. It was filled with cracks that represent the state of this war. Both roads to his left and right were very open. He would be easily seen and an easy target for the chimera. It was a death-trap either way. Oleg sighed and decided to walk through the woods in front of him. It was a large forest and a dark forest but it provided cover for him as he makes his way across the English countryside. He makes his step into the forest, with illusion of a safe haven trapped in his destitute mind.
He has been walking for about 10-15 minutes now. The forest looked like something from back home. Due to lack of human activity, it had grown wild, huge and was practically a rainforest. It reminded him of the jungles in the south of Russia, near the Kazakhstan border. Oleg was amazed by this forest. It was majestic, natural and peaceful. It was captivating; he couldn’t take his eyes of the height of the trees above. He remembers going on fishing trips with his uncle back when he was a teenager. They would take long walks up the river Vyatka and they would travel through many hardships to get to the perfect spot. It was a sweet memory. An old memory that for a brief moment, it made him forget the war and misery. Like every speck of hope, it was short lived as he trips and tumbles down a small hill that he did not see because he simply wasn’t looking in the dark. A mistake that he will not make again.
He reaches to the bottom of the hill and at the bottom was some sort of road. It was a dirty back-road that is used to get across country quicker. It wasn’t an official paved road. Oleg gave a groan of embarrassment and stood himself up. He was fine and unharmed. He took a quick look around. The road seemed to cut through the forest like a knife through butter. It carved the forest. He was then met with the sound of a vehicle approaching from behind. He's see's the bright headlights of it as it looms towards him. Oleg’s natural reactions turned quickly around as he faces the vehicle. His agility was able to instantly reach for his rifle and point it out at the unknown assailant driving the vehicle. The vehicle made a rapid stop in front of him. It was a simple military jeep with a high calibre machine gun attached to the top. One man was driving and the other was manning the large weapon. From their uniforms, he could tell that they were both British soldiers. One of them aimed the machine gun at Oleg and the other stood up from the seat and aimed his rifle at Oleg.
“Oi! What the hell are you playing at! Put down the weapon!” Shouted the driver. Oleg refused to budge from his position and kept his focus on the driver.
“Didn’t you ‘ear him! He said drop it!” Backed up the machine gunner. He seemed young and inexperienced. Oleg could tell the fear in his eyes and the anxiety running through his fingers. He was going to shoot out of fright and Oleg knows he can’t take two at a time. He swallowed his pride and places his weapon down.
“That’s good. Now ‘ands behind your ‘ead.” Oleg obliges. The worst that will happen is they‘ll get attacked and Oleg will use this too escape. It’s not his first run in with the British military. The driver started looking strangely and suspiciously at Oleg. He jumps out of the vehicle and moves closer to him. He was in his face and was looking at him intently.
“Your clothes isn’t military made. What’s your name?” Asks the driver. Oleg doesn’t answer he stands his ground and keeps a straight face.
“Oi! I asked you a question!” Oleg still doesn’t budge. He holds strong and true and refuses to speak. The driver moves out of the way and gives a nod to the young machine-gunner. He seems to give a smile as he instantly shoots the ground in front of Oleg. This causes him to fall back onto the ground. He was now on his back as the British military tries to threaten him.
“Now then, let’s try again...what is your name?” Oleg looks at him. He doesn’t want to reveal his name but he doesn’t want a stomach pumped with lead. He simply shouts one thing in the hopes that they’ll leave him alone.
“I am not infected, so why does my name matter!” He shouts this right into the face of the British soldier. He hasn’t spoken to anyone in years. It feels quite liberating, even in his situation. The British seem confused and amazed. Something in Oleg’s voice has made him speechless.
“Wait...I haven’t heard of that accent since I was a boy. You’re Russian!” This realization brought an array of awe across his face. It was like he had discovered the Holy Grail. He looks towards his partner.
“We’re going to have to show them this.” The machine gunner nodded. The driver then tried to pick Oleg up. “You’re coming us.” Oleg didn’t want to go with them. He would rather not be interrogated like a common criminal. What will his knowledge tell him that they don’t already know. He then punches the soldier in the face and tries to stand up. The British soldier’s resilience to the punch was quite admirable as he was then able to quickly take the butt of his gun and smack Oleg in the face.
Oleg is left on the ground unconscious and, basically, kidnapped. The soldiers load him in the vehicle and started transporting him to York base during the night. What will Oleg encounter on his arrival?
I'll get a post up tomorrow. It kills me that I don't have time to get one up tonight.
Brilliant opener for the IC by the way. :) One of my most anticipated RPs ever. :D
Brilliant opener for the IC by the way. :) One of my most anticipated RPs ever. :D
I love the JFK idea. Maybe the assassination is prevented but one of us has to shoot the president to make it right. Something like that. :)
Considering the size of the team, would we be put into different teams and sent to different locations in time or would we be one big team that all goes to the same place in time?
Considering the size of the team, would we be put into different teams and sent to different locations in time or would we be one big team that all goes to the same place in time?
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