MONSTROUS: The Monster Apocalypse RPG: IC Thread

[Andy C.]

We've all asked ourselves what we'd do in an apocalyptic, survival-at-all-costs scenario at one point or another. Usually, that scenario has something to do with a societal collapse, a viral pandemic, or zombies--most often some combination of the three.


On the other hand, most of us haven't come up with any ideas for what to do when the threat isn't something that can be vaccinated or shotgunned. When the stampeding mob isn't composed of mindless corpses or mutants, but regular people scared out of their heads. When the end of everything you know comes at the hands of something vast, powerful...and very much alive.


Inspired by giant monster/disaster movies like Cloverfield (as well as the classics like Godzilla and King Kong) MONSTROUS puts players on the streets in the thick of a giant monster attack. It pits players' survival instincts to the ultimate test, the decisions they make and their ability to react to the unexpected making the difference between life and death. In a city gripped with panic and besieged by an unstoppable creature, there is only one objective: make it out alive.

This is the in-game thread. For questions, comments, or anything else that needs to be said ouf of character, check the OOC/Sign-up thread here:

http://forums.superherohype.com/showthread.php?t=324464
​

ROSTER:

Kyle Brown
Eddie Brock

Matt Johnson
Byrd Man

Cameron Cropper
Belvedere

Jack Raven
Catman_prb

Iriquois Hodgson
Gallagher

Jason Spencer
AWOL

THE MONSTER/everyone else
Andy C.​

 

[Andy C.]

INCIDENT: MINUS 12:00 HOURS AND COUNTING
Manhattan, New York
7:00 AM

The morning commute in the Big Apple is already well underway. Traffic grinds to a near standstill as the city's seven million men and women attempt to work through the streets to their places of business. Subway trains shuttle thousands from place to place in crammed coaches, and ferry-boats ship thousands more onto the island from across the rivers. Bridges and tunnels connect the island to the mainland, pumping commuters through like arteries. Another day has begun in the unofficial capital of the world.

Meanwhile, the Port Authority has received a series of unexpected signals. Arriving without any prior notice, a small flotilla of Navy vessels, including the supercarrier USS Harry S. Truman, is inbound to converge around the island. When hailed by Port Authority, the official response was that is was part of a larger 'training exercise,' with no further details given. The vessels also showed no apparent interest in combining efforts with the Coast Guard to search for the missing tanker that had sent out a distress signal last night.

Along the east horizon, the sun begins to shine through the gray morning clouds. The city buzzes with activity. The day has begun.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

The entire courtroom goes off like a bomb when the last two words hit.

Not guilty.

I look back at the sea of condemning looks and angered shouts of disapproval. I then turn to look at the twelve members of the jury. They all avoid my glance like it's the plague. Each and every one of them has been gotten to. A family member here, a beloved pet there. Things just sitting around for people like me to take advantage of.

Of course, the verdict comes as no surprise. The family takes care of its' own. I've done this dance three times before and it has always ended the same way. There was that one time where a jury member was particularly stubborn, kept going on and on about justice. A few broken bones turned his "guilty" into a "not guilty" real quick.

With a smile on my face I turn and shake my attorney's hand. He smiles knowingly. "Another fine day for the justice system of New York, Mr. Graves." he says, patting me on the shoulder.

"Makes me damn proud to be an American, Jerry." I chuckle as people began shuffling out of the courtroom.

I can hear the sobs of Mrs. Carson, my victims' widow. It's only by the good graces of Mr. Morgan, the head of the family, that she's still alive. From what I can tell she knew all about her husbands' doings. The family gives them a life, and skimming off the top is how her bastard of a husband decided to pay us back.

Free like a bird. This is going to be a good day.

 

[Eddie Brock]

7:00 AM

"Good morning, New York! The time is now seven o'clock, and the sun is making its climb over the skyline. You can finally put your umbrellas away, folks, as we're looking at a bright and sunny day here in the--"

My hand collapses lazily on the Snooze button. I take in my first genuine breath of the day, and it's a light, flowery smell. I've come to know it well. It's the fabric softener that Sarah uses. Lifting my head ever so slightly, I feel the pillow begin to fill the indent left by my face. As I turn my head, I hear a distinct crack. My eyes fall upon sleek, shimmering hair of the deepest mahogany.

"Good morning," I whisper as Sarah begins to stir. I reach over and place a hand on her soft forearm. The skin is warm and inviting. Sarah begins to roll over slowly, and I rest my face against the nape of her neck. The flowery sheets fade as I take her in. "Happy anniversary," I add with a smile.

Sarah's hand slides gracefully across my cheek. "Happy anniversary," she repeats. Five years ago today, Sarah and I went on our first date. We went to a restaurant called Ricci's. It was brand new back then. The night hardly went as planned. We were forced to forfeit dinner early when I, making the usual fool of myself, managed to spill pasta on my lap. However, back at Sarah's apartment, I slipped into uncomfortably small sweatpants, sat, and talked with Sarah into the long hours of the night.

"Do we really have to get up?" I ask in a childish, yet devilish, tone. I kiss Sarah's neck gently, and her body instantly responds with goosebumps. As if we're perfectly in synch, I feel the sensation running up and down my arms as well. I groan as she shifts out of my grip.

As she sits up, Sarah explains, "You have to go to work, and so do I." I reach helplessly for her, but she resists my advances. She slides out of bed, grabbing her bathrobe on the way.

"I thought you had today off?"

"Maria needed to visit her mother," Sarah reminds me, "Remember? She asked if I could cover for her today, and I said I could. It's the least I could do after all the times she's covered for me." While I lay in bed with my eyes closed, I hear Sarah glide down the hall and close the bathroom door. Moments later, the apartment resonates with the tell-tale sound of the shower.

I groan once more as I force myself out of bed. My feet touch carpeted floor, and the morning begins. I move past the bathroom into the kitchen. I walk with purpose towards the coffeemaker. I pour hot water in and press On. As the noisy device starts up, I go to the door and retrieve the morning's paper. Sure enough, the newspaper confirms the radio's report of sunny skies. Thank God.

I pour coffee into my travel mug and pick the sections of the newspaper I want. Once this has been done, I hear Sarah getting out of the shower. I prepare her usual morning coffee - extra sugar, a touch of cream - and I slip into the bathroom. After a lengthy shower, I return to the bedroom where my outfit is laid out on the bed. I put on my shirt and tie, tuck away my wallet and my PDA, grab my travel mug, and give Sarah a kiss on the way out the door.

 

[Byrd Man]

I sit on a bench outside the courtroom, pounding away on my laptop. I've all but got my story written. All I need to do is get the guilty decision from the jury and some quotes from the victim's family members along with the lawyers.

BZZZT

I pull my phone out my pocket quickly and flip it open.

"Hey, honey.....yeah, I haven't forgot. I'll run by the bakery after I email this article to the office and interview Captain Logan with the Major Case Squad....yeah, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The people start to walk past me and file into the courtroom.

"Linda, I got to go. The jury just returned their verdict.....love you too."

I close up my phone and slide my laptop back into its back as I grab a seat on the frontrow.

"Has the jury reached their verdict?" Judge Bailey asks sternly.

"Yes, we have your honor." The foreman says as he stands.

"Would the defendant please rise."

The foreman looks at the criminal a bit nervously as he clears his throat.

"I-...In the case of The State of New York vs. Thomas Jacob Graves. The jury finds the defendent...not guilty."

My jaw almost hits the floor as the anger murmurs and noise fills the courtroom.

The judge bangs his gavel to quiet the crowd as I pull out my digital recorder and head towards Graves.

With a smile on my face I turn and shake my attorney's hand. He smiles knowingly. "Another fine day for the justice system of New York, Mr. Graves." he says, patting me on the shoulder.

"Makes me damn proud to be an American, Jerry." I chuckle as people began shuffling out of the courtroom.

"How about a human being? Are you proud to be one of those?"

I don't even try to hide my anger as I stare at the hitman.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

The judge bangs his gavel to quiet the crowd as I pull out my digital recorder and head towards Graves.

"How about a human being? Are you proud to be one of those?"

I don't even try to hide my anger as I stare at the hitman.

I look down at a face I've seen way too often.

"Mr. Johnson." I say, careful to add the most condescending edge I can to my voice. "Time and time again the justice system has proven my innocence. Why can't you just accept that, and stop subjecting me to this harassment." I smile and pat him on the shoulder.

Matt Johnson, a journalist who specializes in trying to make life difficult for people like me. Every time this punk pukes out an article, it's bad for business. He shines a spotlight into the dark corners where we do business, and it makes people nervous. It makes them scared.

But then we remind them who they really should be scared of.

"Now, why don't you go home to that pretty little girlfriend of yours, let off some steam. Here, I'll even pay for the taxi as a sign of friendship." I reach into my pocket and present a few five dollar bills and start counting.

 

[Byrd Man]

I look down at a face I've seen way too often.

"Mr. Johnson." I say, careful to add the most condescending edge I can to my voice. "Time and time again the justice system has proven my innocence. Why can't you just accept that, and stop subjecting me to this harassment." I smile and pat him on the shoulder.

Matt Johnson, a journalist who specializes in trying to make life difficult for people like me. Every time this punk pukes out an article, it's bad for business. He shines a spotlight into the dark corners where we do business, and it makes people nervous. It makes them scared.

But then we remind them who they really should be scared of.

"Now, why don't you go home to that pretty little girlfriend of yours, let off some steam. Here, I'll even pay for the taxi as a sign of friendship." I reach into my pocket and present a few five dollar bills and start counting.

"Keep my wife out of your mouth." I say as I push the money away.

"How did you get the jury this time? Bribe, blackmail, or good old intimidation?"

 

[SenseiofCheese]

"Keep my wife out of your mouth." I say as I push the money away.

"How did you get the jury this time? Bribe, blackmail, or good old intimidation?"

I chuckle smugly as I jam the money into my pocket.

"But, Mr. Johnson, that would be highly illegal. And haven't you heard?" I let my hand sail through my hair, and adjust my tie. "I'm innocent."

My lawyer stifles a chuckle as he excuses himself, moving past the journalist. "Hey, you should write a story about how I was set up. If anyone can find the real bad guys, it's you." I wink and give him a pat on the back.

 

[Belvedere]

There's no place like home.
There's no place like home.
There's no place like home.

I open my eyes and find myself staring at my handsome face in the mirror, but my surroundings are unfamiliar; I splash water over my face and wipe it with a towel before opening the bathroom window and staring out at the New York skyline.

Am I really here? Did I really do this? My thoughts dart back to the life I left behind in Champaign: every friend, every girl, every teacher. Heck, even the people I didn't really like.

It's hard to believe that almost two months ago I had never stepped foot outside of Illinois, and today here I am being lead on a wild goose chase by the girl of my dreams. The life I once lead is finished with, I can't go back there now, but I'm starting to piece together a new life here in New York.

My cousin Shaun bangs impatiently on the bathroom door and jolts me out of my day dream, "What the hell are you doing in there? I've got to leave for work in half an hour, you can put your makeup on after I leave." I'd not seen Shaun for almost 15 years before I arrived here in Manhattan and needless to say we were still in the 'feeling out' period.

I look out at the people swarming the street on their way to work before shutting the window.

"You're projecting again little cousin, what you get up to in the confines of your own bedroom is no-one's business but yours."

I open the bathroom door and Shaun barges past me without so much as a good morning, I honestly don't remember why my parents thought staying with this *****e would be a good idea; but you can't pick your family I guess.

I grab the piece of toast which was now cold and soggy and fold it in half, grabbing the shoulder bag my mother had bought me in my senior year of high school and shouted back, "I'm going out, I'll see you tonight."

Shaun acknowledges me in his usual way, with a loud grunt, and I shut the front door behind me.

Today was going to be the day I find her.

I could feel it.

 

[Byrd Man]

I chuckle smugly as I jam the money into my pocket.

"But, Mr. Johnson, that would be highly illegal. And haven't you heard?" I let my hand sail through my hair, and adjust my tie. "I'm innocent."

My lawyer stifles a chuckle as he excuses himself, moving past the journalist. "Hey, you should write a story about how I was set up. If anyone can find the real bad guys, it's you." I wink and give him a pat on the back.

"Don't worry, Graves. Trash like you always get justice in the end."

I give the criminal a final scowl as I turn and head out the courtroom.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

"Don't worry, Graves. Trash like you always get justice in the end."

I give the criminal a final scowl as I turn and head out the courtroom.

I smile and wave enthusiastically after Johnson. Once he's left, I reach up and wrestle the tie loose. I no longer feel like it's choking me, and it slings loosely around my neck as I make my way outside.

The sun is shining, light invading the city in between the skyscrapers. I reach into my pocket and pull out a pair of sunglasses. I place them on my face and reach into my other pocket. I flip the cellphone open and dial the number.

"Yeah, it's done. Of course. Free as a bird." I laugh into the phone.

"Good. Head to O'Connors' and pick up your things." the man on the other end says before hanging up.

Never the cheery bunch, mobsters. I put my phone away and drag out my pack of cigarettes, flipping one into my mouth and lighting it. I take a long, beautiful 'hallelujah' type drag and let the smoke go down into my lungs.

And off I go.

 

[Gallagher]

Iriquios Hodgson
7:00AM Day 1

The gray walls and white floors of the mall glistened in the harsh early sunlight. The place was nowhere near busy yet, it's doors just opened.

"She's into me man."

"I'm sorry?"

"Debbie... She's totally into me dude."

Two young men sit on a bench next to an elaborate water feature, one staring blankly at the other.

"Good for you." Says the mousey haired youth with a rather uninterested tone. "So what does that have to do with us being at the mall at this insane hour?"

"... Why wouldn't we be? This place is fantastic, get here early beat the crowds." The other young man professed this one slightly younger and lankier than the other.

"Beat them to what? The copius amounts McDonalds they have around the place?"

"Hey man, it was your idea to come out today Iri." Shot back Iriquios' friend his hands raised in the air.

"Yeah out, somewhere interesting, the movies, a bar anywhere. The mall isn't my idea of a good time Josh." The young man sighed, looking on as the masses seemed to teem into the mall to do their daily business.

"A bar? At 7 in the mornin'?"

Iriquios exhales, exasperated. "Never mind, what did you plan on doing then?"

The young man seemed to think for awhile, looking around as the sun blazed in through the glass roof.

"You had breakfast yet?" He asked with a grin.

 

[Byrd Man]

The McDonalds has a few people in it chewing on their processed food. Say what you will about their food, they have free wifi. It's 10 a.m. by the time I lean back and look at my article on my laptop screen.

Jury Rules Not Guilty In Graves Trial
​

On Tuesday morning, the jury came back with their decision on accused hitman Thomas Graves.

"Not guilty." said the foreman to the stunned courtroom.

Graves was accused of the 2007 shooting death of William Carson, a man to suspected to be a bookie in the Morgani Crime Family. On July 7th of 2007, Carson's wife discovered her husband laying face down in the back yard, five bullet holes in his back.

"I just don't know what to do now." Nora Carson tearfully said after the verdict was read.

"I thought William would finally get justice, but I don't know what's going to happen." She added.

Graves himself is believed to be a member of the Morgani Crime Family himself, as one of the organizations top assassins.

This aquittal marks the third time Graves was brought to trial and aquitted. In 2003, a mistrial was ruled in Graves' attempted murder trial, where he was accused of dropping a man from five stories above the street. In 1998, Graves was one of the six men DA Bob Lavender brought to trial on racketerring charges. Among those accused included Morgani Crime Family boss Salvatore Morgan. Lavender later dropped his case due to lack of evidence and witnesses recanting their testimony.

Captain Thomas Logan was involved in all three investigations and says that this recent trial does not mean his Major Case Squad will stop their investigations of Graves.

"We are currently investigating [Graves] for a laundry list of charges. I am positive that we will find something that sticks in the coming weeks and months. The problem, though is not making an arrest. It's finding a jury that will convict." said Logan.


I read it over to make sure I've got it like I want it, and then email it to my editor to put in the paper for tomorrow.

I'm closing up my laptop and preparing to leave when my phone rings.

"Johnson. Yeah?....okay, I'm on it." I sigh a bit as I close my phone up.

Editor wants me to head to Port Authority and find out why all these damn battleships are doing floating in the waters off Manhattan.

So much for me getting the cake by 11 p.m. is all I'm thinking about as I manage to flag down a taxi and get inside its back seat.​

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Almost an hour after the trial, I've made it to my destination. I like to walk, take in the fresh air, look at the people. Especially when I'm not in any hurry.

"Hey! Tommy!" a man shouts over at me from behind a bar counter, as I push open the door to O'Connors' Pool Bar. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust from the sun outside to the dark interior of the bar.

"How's it hangin', Markie." I greet Markie O'Connor, the owner. He's been running this place for about 15 years now, and you can tell just by looking at him. Aside from looking like ten different shades of crap, Markie is as good a guy as they come.

I've long lost the count, how many times I've come in here, half-bled to death with a dozen bullets in me, and Markie fixed me up and let me lay low for a while. Aside from that, he's one of the few people I've never had to 'remind' of their debts. Always on time, always to be trusted.

"Looks like you hit the jury jackpot again, eh?" he chuckles, as he pours a drink into a glass dirtier than mud for some poor drunk who's buried his head in the counter.

"Yeah, well." I laugh back. "Another win for the American Justice System."

"You want a drink?" he offers, motioning to the case full of liquors behind him.

I shake my head. "Too early in the mornin' for me, Markie. Mr. Morgani send you my stuff?" I ask, moving closer to the counter and sitting down on one of the stools.

"That he did." Markie nods and bends down to his knees. From under the counter he presents a small bag. He hands it over and I take a look inside.

It's my gun, a few rounds of ammo, and a small pocket book. I make a point of my weapon being clean, so it bugs me when I see some greasy-fingered bastard has been handling it, but I say nothing. I quickly check the pocket book and see all the familiar addresses, nothing's been torn out. "Thanks, Markie. I'll be seeing you around." I shake his hand and he bids me farewell as I make my way back out into the day.

Brand new day, brand new jobs, brand new people to hurt.

 

[Gallagher]

Iriquios Hodgson
8:00AM Day 1

As Josh and I sat in the food court I poked at my questionable breakfast in front of me.

"You know what goes into these things?"

"Dude, who cares? It's food." Came his oblivious reply. I look down at the food infront of me again and sigh.

"You sure about that?" I ask jokingly. As I look up I notice Josh not paying any attention, staring off into the distance behind me. I turn and follow his line of sight, coming through the entrance of the mall was a group of girls and in the middle: Debbie Harrison. Suddenly it all comes together.

"So that's why we're at the mall. You're stalking your lady love." I grin knowingly, he gives me a friendly punch on the arm as he continues to watch his infactuation stroll through the mall.
​

"Shut up man I'm not stalkin' her. I just need an opening."

"Look she wouldn't go anywhere near you in high school what makes things different now we've left?"

"I was a complete dweeb in school." He protests.

"... Like I said what difference is there now?" I laugh yet again earning a punch in the arm. We stay sat outside a McDonalds for a little while more before the silence gets unbearable. "Look just go over there for **** sake."

"What and talk to her?"

"No just go over and rub against her leg. Of course talk to her you idiot. I'm sick of this mall I feel like I'm in a Kevin Smith film."

"What... Dogma?"

"Wha- No... No I... Urgh never mind. Look, either you go over there and talk to her or I'm leaving and going to find something worthwhile to do."

I watch him for a moment has he seems to jump around in his seat trying to get his nerves under control, the way I see it this should be the most entertaining thing that happens all day. He gets up and the show begins...

 

[Catman_prb]

Jack Raven
8:00AM Day 1

Jack jolted awake to find that someone was straddling him. Normally he didn't mind being straddled; in fact he viewed it as a very healthy part of relationships. As his sense started to kick in, he found that both he and the straddler were naked. This too pleased him, and as he opened his eyes a crack he noticed that it was indeed a girl who was straddling him, and an attractive one at that. However there was one pressing question that came to mind.

"Why the hell am I shackled to the bed?" he gasped, shaking his hands so that the chains rattled.

"Don't you remember, honey?" the pretty girl asked, leaning closer and letting her blonde ringlets fall onto his face.

"Getting shackled to things seems like something that I would remember, but I'm going to put this down to the mammoth amount of booze I had yesterday," Jack said, leaning his head away from the girl. She pouted.

"Well I should probably let you out anyway," she said, beginning to unlock the chains and cuffs that held him in place.

"Thankyou," Jack said pleasantly, flexing his hands as the blood started to flow again.

"Daddy's coming around, so you need to get dressed," she said, getting up and walked off into the living room, not noticing Jack go white as a sheet. After taking a minute to appreciate her shapely backside, both silently curse and congratulate his drunken self on some fabulous pick up skills. The only piece of clothing he could see was his jacket, but thankfully that contained his mobile.

"Bobby, what the hell happened to me last night?" he barked down the line. His friend laughed.

"What do you mean man? Didn't you get with that Cindy bird?"

"That's a distinct possibility. However, it's also likely that said bird's dad is about to rip me a new one," Jack hissed.

"Uhm...get dressed and get out?"

"I can't find my clothes! And I'm not leaving through the front door,"

"Why not?"

"There were chains man, I hate to think what she'd do," he said. There was a burst of laughter down the phone.

"**** it, I'm going out the window,"

"Naked? I can't wait to see this,"

"You're a good friend,"

 

[Colossus]

BANG!!
"You ah fired!"

Adam had just shot the next man that he was contracted to kill when his phone rang to the Whitney Houston Bodyguard theme. it was his boss, the one that he had never met in person, just on the phone.

"Hey pal we got some bad news."

"What" he replied.

"Apparently the cops have conspired a pattern of all of the recent killings in NYC. They linked the ones you did, saying they were by the same killer."

"Awww ****. I know this is the wrong time, but can I finally trade my job for what's behind door #2?"

"This is no laughing matter, they will find you! I warned you about leaving cute little marks dammit!! If they catch you, you know what happens?"

"They remove the anal probe from your ass?"

"NO! If they find you, I'm guessing you'll squeal and ALL of my employees AND me spend the rest of our lives making liscence plates." the boss was becoming impatient.

"Relax, if they had laid one hand on me I'da handed em their lungs by now."

Adam hung up on his boss and started thinking about the situation he was in. He put on his Gargoyle ANSI classic sunglasses and walked out knowing that he was standing on a slippery slope.

"I hate this job."

 

[Andy C.]

INCIDENT: MINUS 8:00 HOURS AND COUNTING
Hudson River
11:00 AM

The crew of the Hodges' Hope is turning back to the shore, discouraged from a morning of frustration and failure. Each time they had cast out their nets, they came back full of already dead fish. What's more, when one of the crew inspected a few of the carcasses, he found a disturbingly large amount of oddities: fish with burns so thorough they seemed to have already been cooked, fish with bones protruding through the skin, fish with bulbous growths and boils covering their bodies. The captain had guessed that there must have been some kind of chemical spill in the Bay, but whatever the cause, they weren't going to get any sort of worthwhile catch this morning.

As the fishing boat makes its way back to the harbor, it suddenly lurches to the port side, letting out a deafening groan of twisting metal. A sudden wave in the otherwise still water slams across the deck, tossing two sailors overboard. The panic-stricken captain grabs the cabin's radio to send out an S.O.S., but as he shouts their coordinates into the microphone, another sickening metal shriek drowns out his voice, and the whole world cartwheels around him.

In less than thirty seconds, the Hodges' Hope is capsized and sunk completely, dragging all hands down with it.

 

[wiegeabo]

I rest my forehead on the steering wheel and curse myself as the horns blow around me. The one time I decide not to take the bus to work because I was in a hurry. Idiot. Who drives in this city?

Horns blare again and people curse out their windows. Ok. Who with intelligence drives in this city?

I would have been ten of fifteen minutes late waiting for the next bus. Now I'm looking at thirty. The chief's gonna tear me a new one when I show up. We move six inches then stop again.

If I show up.

...

"You look more tired than I feel, doc."

I give up fighting the yawn and cover my mouth. "You don't know the half of it, Airman." I look over Airman Olsen's chart and my mouth turns down slightly.

"Bad news, huh?"

"It's not good....The damage is worse than we thought. We...we couldn't treat that much radiation exposure."

Olsen looks away for a second before pulling himself together. "So that's it?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How...long...you know?"

"A few days, maybe. We'll make you comfortable. There won't be much pain until towards the end." Olsen shifts his eyes away again, but it's my duty to tell him everything. "You'll feel ok for the next day or two. Just tired. But then it'll get harder to get up and move around. You'll sleep more and more. It'll start getting hard to eat, and then your organs will start giving out."

Olsen wipes at his eyes. Patients like this make me hate my job. "I figured the Air Force would be safe, you know? Even if you get shipped out, you're never on the front lines. Always on base."

I lean in conspiratorially and lower my voice. "Truthfully, that's why I chose it too."

Olsen chuckles. But his smile fades. "Can't believe it a fifty year old damaged nuke is what got me."

I nod. "Your commanding officer's putting you in for a medal." Olsen looks surprised. "Hey, you got everyone out of there and secured the bomb by yourself."

"How is everyone else?"

"We won't be able to tell about Lieutenant Rivers for another day or so. He could still go either way. But the others are recovering nicely."

Olsen smiles. "That's good."

I sit there for a few uncomfortable moments. "I need to check on my other patients. But I'll be back later. Ok?"

"Sure, doc," Olsen says without enthusiasm.

I walk over to the nurses station and add Olsen's chart to the rest. "Job really sucks sometimes, doesn't it?" Nurse Elise Jackson asks.

"Understatement of the year."

"Do you, maybe...want to get some beers after work? You know, drown the job away for a couple of hours?"

Is..is she...asking me out? Hell, does it matter? "I'd love nothing better after today." She smiles. "But getting here forty-five minutes late? The Major's got me pulling a double today. All after coming off the late-shift yesterday."

"Oh," Elise says trying to cover up her disappointment in her paperwork.

"Raincheck?" I ask. "Maybe tomorrow?"

She smiles again. "I'd like that."

"Ok." I walk away smiling. Today's going to be a good day after all...

 

[Byrd Man]

11:03

I'm standing in front of a captain with the Coast Guard, listening to him feeding me this BS answer to why the Navy ships are in Manhattan when one of his underlings pulls him aside.

"Something wrong?" I ask as I stop the voice recorder.

"Nope." He says with a comforting smile that's a little too forced. 15 years working the crime beat tells me he's lying straight to my face.

"Okay."

He holds out his hand and we shake.

"Thanks for coming in, Mr. Johnson."

"My pleasure." I say as I turn and leave. I wait until the Coast Guard men have their back turned before I turn my recorder on and place it on a nearby desk.

I leave for five minutes before coming back in.

"Forgot this." I say to the captain with a smile as I grab my recorder and leave.


On my way out the building, I play the five minutes back.

"Sir. We recieved an SOS from a ship five miles out of Manhattan. The Hodges' Hope."

"What does it say."

"Listen."

"Skkkk- This is Captain McLarney 41° 08' 30'' N- SKKK!!!! AHH!!!"

"That's the end of the transmission."

"What was that sound, that noise?"

"We don't know, sir. The nearby ship, the Jenny came over....the ship was capsized.....they found claw marks on the hull."

"My god."

My mouth drops open as the recorder goes silent.

 

[Andy C.]

INCIDENT: MINUS 5:25 HOURS AND COUNTING
Coney Island
1:35 PM

The sounds of a caliope organ underscore another day at the legendary amusement park. Decades-old rides whirl and spin, entertaining those on board just as much now as they did generations ago. The rickety wooden roller-coaster clatters down the track, screaming passengers in tow. Tourists and city natives alike take their mid-day snack, be it cotton candy, funnel cakes, or corn dogs. Those who wish to beat the heat duck inside to see the Island's museums or the famed sideshows.

Out on the boardwalk, a girl points out to something she sees in the water. Her parents humor her and ask what it is. She doesn't know, but says it's bigger than a whale.

A few more tourists catch sight of something moving just under the surface of the river, causing the water to bulge upwards and break into an enormous wake, like the kind left behind by an ocean-liner. A few of them pull out their cameras and take snapshots, others hoping to wait until the whale surfaces to spout water from its blow-hole.

The bulge in the water gives way for just a moment, giving the bystanders on the shore a glance of a huge, fleshy bulk. It's too far away to get a detailed look, and is only above water for a few short seconds. The bystanders are mesmerized.

Then, the figure spouts...but not water.

A massive jet of blue-green flame erupts from under the surface, billowing straight up into the air. The little girl screams, and her scream is joined by dozens of others. A second later, the wave of heat from the fiery blast washes over them, giving them a full day's worth of sunburn almost instantly.

As suddenly as the massive figure appeared, it is gone, sinking under the waves and back into the river.

 

[wiegeabo]

I'm able to slip away from my rounds for an actual break. Of course I had to wait for our administrator to due the same thing seeing as how I'm on his ****-list for the day. But it's worth it.

While most of the staff usually relax in the lounge, or catch a nap in the on-call room, I prefer to come to the roof. The street noises aren't that bad up hear, plus there's plenty of sun and a nice breeze that comes off the ocean in the distance. And the view.

With the birds chirping and the ships and boats lazily floating by...it's a nice place...to catch...a little...sleep......


FWWWOOOOMMMM!!!!


The sound and faint jump in heat shoots me up from the lawn chair I smuggled up here.

"What the hell!"

Out in the middle of the water, I see the last bits of blue-green flame before it dies down. "****. Someone hit a gas line or something." I quickly run downstairs, hoping there's not going to be reports of mass injuries. Usually during a crisis, we get tasked with civilian casualties when the other hospitals overflow.

"Have you heard-?" Nurse Elise starts.

"I saw. Any idea what it was?"

"Not yet. There's a scattering of news reports on the radio. And a bunch of twitter's are going up."

I stand behind Elise to look at the screen. "Thought we weren't supposed to use the computers for personal internet."

She gives me a smirk. "Ha, ha. What's that forum you're always browsing? Super...?"

"So...nothing concrete yet? It looked like something hit an underwater gas line. Maybe an anchor."

"Or maybe a runaway sub?"

"Heh. Wouldn't put it past the Navy." There's a ton more twitters, mostly about people complaining about being burned. And the story pops up on CNN, although there's nothing to it. Not much more than a notice at this point. "Call down and alert the burn ward. The civilian hospitals might be sending us their extras."

"Will do."

 

[Eddie Brock]

1:35 PM

Mr. Wiggins frowns disappointedly. "Well, Kyle, we can't pretend like we didn't see this day coming." He leans back in his chair. I observe the strain placed on the buttons of his shirt, and I begin to fear that one will pop off and hit me. I turn my attention back to Mr. Wiggins - and his walrus mustache. "I guess I was just hoping that we'd have a little more time together," he sighs.

I nod understandingly. "Once again, I can't stress enough, sir, that this decision is no reflection on you or the company," I explain.

"Well, of course not!" he agrees emphatically. "A man has to do what he feels is right, and keeping you here would be a waste of your talent, Kyle." Mr. Wiggins leans forward and grabs a pen from his desk. He begins to spin it between his fingers absent-mindedly. "The truth is, I've always wanted to suggest this to you, but I didn't have the heart to lose such a fine worker."

"Thank you, sir."

With a smile, Mr. Wiggins asks, "So, how were you thinking of getting started in this venture of yours? If you don't mind me asking, that is." He winks and adds, "Don't want you thinking that I'm trying to steal trade secrets."

I laugh softly. "To be honest, sir, I don't have a clue." Mr. Wiggins nods. "I just know that if I don't do this, I'll never be satisfied with what I have." Not that what I have is bad or anything, I quickly remind myself.

"Well, then, I'd say your heart's definitely in the right place, son." He puts his pen down. "If you know what you want, how to get it isn't as important. You know, you remind of myself, actually. It's not like I started this company right out of college, after all. Like you, I took some time to try and get my feet set." He stares off into space for a moment - reliving his youth, I suppose.

When the silence has dragged long enough, I announce, "Well, thank you for being so understanding, sir." I get up, and Mr. Wiggins imitates the gesture.

"I'll miss you, Kyle," he laments. As we leave the office, he pats me on the back and chuckles.

 

[Andy C.]

INCIDENT: MINUS 3:00 HOURS AND COUNTING
Hudson Bay
4:00 PM

Radios chatter incessantly from boat to boat, and back and forth with the Port Authority. Responses ranged from genuine concern to unrestrained outrage, but the word from on high was unchanged.

Ten minutes ago, the Navy fleet surrounding the island officially ordered the Port Authority to close the harbor, restricting all commercial shipping, and to wait for instructions. After that, there was no further word from the massive military vessels.

As angry crews demanded their right to go out to sea, the Port Authority had to attempt to make sense of the situation. What with the unexpected sinking of the Hodges' Hope, some were whispering rumors of some kind of terrorist activity, or worse, a covert operation by their own government. Speculation ran wild, despite the official efforts to quelch it.

Matters aren't helped any when, without notifying the local air-traffic controllers, the USS Harry S. Truman launches a wing of F/A-18 Hornets, which are visible by thousands as they circle Manhattan in a tight perimeter. Before any official word is released as to the fighters' objective, a second squadron is launched.

Several minutes pass as they sweep the air over New York, until a pair of them bank towards some unseen target in the Bay. Onlookers from the shore react with varying degrees of surprise and fear as one of them launches a missile into the water, kicking up an enormous spray as it explodes, the shockwave making it back to the harbor and shattering the windows of some unfortunate boats.

Thirty seconds later, a second plane swoops in and delivers another missile, followed by a third. Following that, the fighters pull up and continue to circle in a holding pattern above the city.

The Port Authority receives a brief and curt announcement from the Truman, advising caution and calm, and that an official statement regarding these 'exercises' will be released shortly.

Over the radio waves, pandemonium ensues.

 

[wiegeabo]

"-avy still reports that, while there is no evidence of an attack of any type, the terror alert has been heightened only as a precaution. The Navy has also yet to confirm or deny the firing of missiles into Hudson Bay a few minutes ago, despite video from several sources of the-"

"Turn that off now, Nurse! The last thing we need to do is upset these patients."

"Yes, sir."

I sigh and roll my eyes. Only one man can sound that smug and angry at the same time. Major Jefferson Charles Decker. Or 'Jesus Christ' Decker as we like call him, seeing as how he thinks he can walk on water. No man is more insufferable than this self-righteous blowhard. But, dammit, if he didn't out skill just about every other doctor in the state.

Think House. But not nearly as likable, and a little more full of himself.

I pat Olsen on the shoulder as I stand up. "Be back in a bit. Get some rest."

"Sure, doc."

I step away from his bed and to the desk. "Any news, Major?"

"What makes you think I'd get told anything, Pierce? Am I entitled to some kind of extra information?"

"Well, you are an administrator, sir."

"Damn right." It didn't take me long to learn that reminding Decker how important he was kept him in a good mood. Well, his version of a good mood. He puts his chart away and picks up another. "Something's going on. But the Navy and Homeland are keeping a tight lid on it."

"That's it?"

"What about 'tight lid' didn't you understand?"

I ignore the comment. "Are we expecting any casualties."

"Not right now. The Navy is tending to their own. The civilian hospitals too. Most common complain seems to be severe first degree burns."

"Uncomfortable, but not life threatening."

"Excellent grasp of the obvious, Captain."

"Thank you, sir. I learned from the best." I also learned pretty quickly that sometimes Decker needed to be put back in his place.

Decker glares at me, then grabs the chart from my hands. "And how is Olsen doing?"

"Better than expected. But he's only got a couple of days left."

Decker nods. "I see. Well, I think you're spending too much time with the Airman, when you should be spending more at the cost of your other patients.

Sitting behind Decker, Elise gives me a look of astonishment. As if Decker would know just how much time I'm spending with my patients since he hasn't been down here all day.

"I'll keep that in mind." Decker nods and grunts, hands me Olsen's chart back, and starts walking away.

"Carry on, Captain."

He turns the corner, "Yes sir...Major Prick."

Elise covers up her laugh and I throw her a smile before walking over to Olsen's bed...