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Zeta Squad HOME BASE:



Welcome to the Zeta Squad HOME BASE:. Inside the home base tent are a couple cots in addition to tables holding about a week's worth of simple supplies, though there is no food around. For some reason with this gask mask on, you never feel hungry. Or thirsty. Or like you need to use the bathroom, though you still feel sleepy from time to time and worn out. The home base itself is a simple tent, easily identifiable by its bright orange material.

SUPPLIES:

Your home base shelter for your group comes equipped with all necessary supplies. Inside the accommodating tent lie three tables. The first table simply contains exactly twelve first aid kits, all neatly organized in rows of six, one for each person.

The second table seems to have been organized with a fair amount of dedication, on each backpack is written only a number. Once again, there are exactly twelve backpacks, organized in rows of six.

The last table is the simplest of all and simply contains one map.





Other than the written locations, there is not much else on the map



((OOC: ICly post to pick up your supplies, and ROLL ONE 6-sided dice to determine your weapon that is in the bag you randomly picked up:

1- A handgun, but it is full of rubber pellets
2- A small dagger
3 - Extra bandages
4 - A small hand club
5 - A wooden stake
6. Small nunchucks

Please go to the Battle rules to make sure you read up on HOW TO BATTLE, and what effect your weapon has. ))

It is NOT SAFE to linger too long at home base, you can and will be attacked anywhere, including your home base should an intruder decide to step into this thread. How you want to travel and approach things is up to you, but make sure if you leave the thread note EXIT THREAD in your post to do so.

exclaim At no point can your character be in two threads at once - doing so without GM approval can and will get your banned from this event. exclaim

Zeta 9 enter Zeta base

This can't be real; it all felt much too sureal for it to possibly be real.

She couldnt remember anything. It was like she was a brand new shell of a person. "Zeta 9..." That's what it said on her suit. It didn't sound like a name, but it's what she had been identified as, so it had to be. Right?

Reaching up to her face (well... the gasmask that currently occupied her face), she was shocked to find that she couldn't even remember what she looked like. Was that normal? Nothing felt normal right now.

Zeta 9 looked down at her body. Was that a cell phone? Flicking it out, she proceeded to read the message that to her suprise had flashed up. At least I remember how to use this... Thickly gloved fingers made the device difficult to use, but she got the message open eventually.

Reading the text, she felt her heart slowly begin to sink. 13 survivors. That was it or everyone died. There had been more than 13 people in that classroom thing. A lot more. Oh god, she was going to die here.

Panic began to bubble up inside the being known as Zeta 9, but she fought to supress it. She just had to keep calm and think. Surveying the room, she noticed a backpack amongst eleven others with her "name" on it. "Huh?" The confused girl picked up her bag and inspected the contents, only to find some nunchucks. Frowning, she looked over to one of the other tables. Two rows of first aid kits sat atop it. It couldnt hurt to have one of those in her possession. Zeta 9 picked one up and placed it in her backpack. The final table had a map spread over it. She wandered over to take a look. She needed all the knowledge she could get right now.

[And Introducing Zeta 11 as Zeta 11 (Entering the Home Base)]

Well, this was different.

Or was it? After all, before this there was nothing. Well, there was something. Or at the very least, the sensation that there was something. A world outside of these walls, cities, people, a society where this kind of thing – whatever it was – was considered very, very different. But how could he be positive that he had ever been a part of that world? How could he be sure that this wasn’t all he had ever known? His brow furrowed in contemplation, an act that pushed his skin tighter against the smothering confines of his mask and made him realize that anything that felt this unpleasant had to be different.

With that, he sat up on his cot, eyes and ears adjusting to the sights and sounds of the room around him. Good. He still knew what senses were. A grasp on basic concepts like hearing and seeing at least gave him some footing to work with. It felt nice to understand something. He looked over the rows of similar cots, regarding the sleeping, similarly attired bodies with curiosity. Hadn’t there been more people? In that classroom, the only solid memory he had before the moment he currently found himself in.

Right. The classroom. Another fact of his existence he could hold onto. That cloaked figure. It had told them that they had all wanted to be there. That they had consensually signed those papers. He found comfort in those words. After all, that figure wouldn’t have lied to them, would it have? Or would it? After all, man’s heart was easily corrupted. Man could be selfish, capable of horrifying acts of manipulation and deceit. But how could he be sure that thing was a man at all?

His brow furrowed again, and the hot touch of leather made him realize he should probably stop doing that.

His heavy boots swung over the cot’s edge and lifted him to his feet. He moved to the two tables, stopping first in front of the first aid kits. In such a strange place, something with a giant red cross labeling it would probably prove useful. He reached out immediately to take hold of a kit, only to stop as he noticed the roman numerals etched into his sleeve.

“Eleven.”

Gaze shifted to the bags, where a brief scan located one baring a matching number. The bag was meant for him. Good. Another thing he understood. Another gold star.

He hoisted his bag up from the table, immediately feeling something weighing it down as he lifted it into the air. Thickly encased fingers made it difficult to work the zipper, but after some struggling he managed to open the bag and reach inside to grab a hold of… something. He pulled it out, eyes widening as he saw a gun held up between his forefinger and thumb.

He suddenly felt as if all his thinking might not be the best thing to be doing at the moment.

[ζ VII, in home base]

It felt like his body was hit by a ton of rocks.

A mountainside of rocks as he was jarred from his blissful sleep. "Ugh, what in the blue hell hit me?" He wondered out loud as he tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head and get a look around. his face felt oddly warm and the air was murky with moisture, he had a mask on. "Wha-what the hell's this?" he asked as he touched his now disguised face. either this was some kind of party.

Or something serious was about to happen. He checked himself for anything usable to contact his home and grasped trough compartment after compartment. Ha, a phone, i'll just call home and see if- How could he call home if he doesn't remember what the number is?

Or where his home is?
Who he is?

"Crap, amnesia? Bloody perfect time to lose your memories self." he mentally griped to his Swiss cheesed brain.
It was frustrating, so frustrating he could punch something, break something, flip something over in a fit of anger. The phone looked like a swell place to start as he was about to throw it, and he saw the brand upon his arm.

It was a dull orange paint, its color already set and dried as it was hastily marked upon his armor, riding over bumps and dips. It was like a beacon that couldn't be avoided.
ζ VII
Thankfully, below it was a scratch mark that said Zeta cuz he had no flippin' way of knowing what that symbol meant. Zeta Seven. It was clear that this was a game of war and he was rather defenseless. "Crap, I need a weapon" He looked around with orange tinted vision for a loose object to wield, nothing. But there was a bag that other people were gathered around. people in the same outfit as himself, the same symbol as his own, in the same situation. He made his way over to the bag with heavy footsteps and thrust his hand within the bag, searing for some sort of physical security to wield. There was something in there, cool to the touch even through his thin glove he could feel the sting of cold on it as he lifted it out.

A firearm, a handgun if he remembered correctly. It was sleek and without a scratch, It felt rather light but he couldn't recall if he knew how to use it. He could be adequate with it like a marksman, or a complete dunce with it. That's the fun with amnesia. but at least he felt more secure with it. "Okay, does anyone here know what the hell's going on?" he grated out behind his mask, slightly distorting his voice and making it sound rather inhuman as he looked at the others milling about.

Glancing to the others who seemed about as confused as he was, Z4 raised a hand towards the soldier who had spoken behind him, "Hi! Uh. I assume we're soldiers. It would make sense, right?" It was relieving to hear he wasn't the only one to have forgotten.... everything. "I'm not entirely sure what we're fighting, but-" there was a vibration in his belt pocket, and the skinny soldier straightened with a surprised noise before even thinking to check in the pouch.

What he found there was a cell phone. And a text message. Hey, someone wanted to talk! Or... send instructions. "Hmm... well. That's disheartening..." His face fell behind his mask. Only... 13 could survive? A shame, really.

He felt the day was too nice out. They should definitely have a picnic instead. He wasn't hungry, but he was fairly certain if he hunted enough he could find a frisbee...

"Considering you have a gun?"

It wasn't really a sarcastic retort, as retorts go, sounding more like a benign comment than a malicious one. It seemed Zeta Eight wasn't quite as enthusiastic about the situation as everyone else was, but it could hardly be said she was moping either. In fact, she was eerily cool about the entire thing... perhaps it was a coping mechanism. With no memory, no name, no idea even what they looked like, they needed all the help they could get, in that department. Dwelling on it certainly wouldn't help.

Listening to the conversation for a few more comments more, she finally interjected again when they seemed to have reached a lull, turning to look over her shoulder out the door of the tent, to where the island spanned out seemingly indefinitely. "We have two options. Wait for instructions, or take a look around," she replied, which seemed to have nothing to do with the conversation much at all. Then, as if to rectify this, "And I think we're more of experiments than soldiers."

"Eight," Z4 repeated, pointing to the soldier in question and then turned to ZVII, "Seven.. Right." He nodded, proud of himself for remembering their "names"- or titles, whatever. It was the closest they had to work with. "Experiments? I... suppose..." He cocked his head thoughtfully, "Well, whatever we are, Soldiers, Experiments or both... a look around might not be a bad idea? I'd love to get some fresh air! This can't be so bad, right? I mean... SURE we can't remember why we're here, SURE we can't remember... much of anything... alright, this might be some sort of sadistic experiment, but we are a TEAM, right? The uniforms tell us that much!" He positively beamed behind his mask, and if there had been a soap box, he would have stepped up onto it for his pep talk.

"SURE, most of us will probably die! Alright, we have no idea what the enemy is like, and what we're fighting for.. EXACTLY... but... but..." His mind raced, still grinning behind his mask although it was trembling around the edges. At least no one could see it. "Well, we ARE fighting for SOMETHING- 13 to survive, that's... that's more than all of us here. We fight to SURVIVE and maybe make some new friends along the way." He nodded sagely, waving his club for dramatic effect. "And THEN we can have a party! A NICE party! With funny hats and we'll all laugh about it over drinks! So who's with me??"

It seemed Z4 was a bit of an idiot. But his heart was in it, at least.