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5 mos ago
Current So I'm pursuing a PhD in Philosophy (Ethics, specifically) and meanwhile I can't for the life of me make any quick choice when it comes to coffee. Am I fighting an uphill battle here?
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10 mos ago
Hooray for upcoming surprise CT Scan! :/
12 mos ago
Did someone say Disturbed?
5 likes
12 mos ago
"...You haven't changed at all, Snake."
1 yr ago
Underwent cavity repair yesterday and woke up to blood pouring out of my nose and mouth at irregular intervals. Ain't life grand?
2 likes

Bio

Heyo! Just your friendly neighborhood Disturbed Spec here. Avid Roleplay addict, writer, reader and gamer who owns for baby birds (because honestly why not?) I look forward to creating amazing memories with you all on this site! Cheers!

Most Recent Posts

Not to mention, I plan on soon having my Spartan Fireteam upgraded with MJOLNIR Mk. V or VI. That is to say, despite the in-universe timeline of GEN2 being waaaay further out, it may seem like a possibility depending on what exactly these upgrades entail. I'm imagining 'upgrades' being things from respective universes pulled into this one, but that's just me.


UNSC Unbroken Hope


1530 Hours, April 11th 2550 (Military Calendar) /
Unknown system, Unknown sector, Aboard the Resurgence.


Interacting with: Everyone aboard the Resurgence.

Things were finally beginning to take shape, it seemed. Indeed, a new command structure had to be formed simply to get off the ground with this newly formed multi-dimensional fleet. Before he could interject, however, one such figure went back to berating another over a job description. Marcus sighed again, and waved his hand at the man as he spoke up. "Regardless of the choice of words some of you may have for each other, from this point on, we're unofficially allied with one another unless something serves to break that, internal or externally speaking. We have a framework of what needs to be done in addressing the issue of eliminating Anubis and his forces, and some of us have vessels that offer quite a large compliment of military personnel for ground and air operations. Yet, there's only... six to eight of us in this room. This is less of a central military and more of a coordinated guerilla operation. If we're going to make any dent in Anubis and his forces, it would be advisable to get any and all information possible on the forces, weapons, armor and technological capabilities of this universe- regardless of how much it deviates from what it originally was in the first place. Our ships were only designed with the forces we had to fight in our home universes, and even with upgrades, it would be foolish to assume our ships could hold their own in a direct engagement with an enemy only one of us has experienced fighting." Marcus nodded in this statement to the crew of the Resurgence, but also applied it to each and every one present in the room. "Furthermore, I believe we're going to need to treat this 'campaign' as a covert liberation effort in its beginning stages. Control sectors, hit-and-run on enemy installations, amass forces from anyone beyond us that is willing to help, then strike with a sufficiently armed and equipped force."

Oliver rolled his shoulders in the seat, wincing with a slight grimace as he adjusted his position, then nodded toward the Sangheili in the room. "Despite our differences in the universes we came from, if what is to be believed about... alignments with 'false gods' and the subsequent division in the Covenant that I learned about- UNSC Protocol does not exist here. Not anymore, anyway. We're on our own and running blind. If I came back from this universe alive and word got out about my involvement with any Covenant, even former, I would be summarily tried and executed. My crew would be dissolved, these Spartans would be hunted down by ONI Kill Squads- everything would come down. What I'm saying right now is downright treason, but frankly, we can't hold onto the hope of coming back if it is the fate we face, for some of us. Having a simple 'central Command delegate' will only get us so far. We all need to communicate and put any mistrust behind us. As far as I know, this meeting will be the first of many. We don't need to like what we hear, but our own self-preservation lies within, essentially, everyone else in this room. Sorry for beating a dead horse on singing 'Kumbaya' in the hopes we're all going to get along, but I'd urge everyone here to realize that there can be no betrayals if we have any hopes of eliminating Anubis. That's the first step to our organization beyond simple ship assessment and who does what."

Marcus adjusted himself again uncomfortably in his seat, finally having enough and deciding to stand up and move back from the internal chair. The Spartans now glanced around the room, and even from them, there appeared to be a general unease at the conclusion of their Admiral's speech. Finally after what seemed like several seconds of silence from the exosuited soldiers, one of them stepped forward; the numbers '233' illuminated from the lighting as the helmet's external speakers crackled to life with a relatively young-sounding, yet borderline inhumanly disciplined female voice. "Admiral Oliver's right. We're prepared to assist your forces in any way we can."













Hah! Nothing like a good 'ol coincidence.


UNSC Unbroken Hope


1530 Hours, April 11th 2550 (Military Calendar) /
Unknown system, Unknown sector, Aboard the Resurgence.


Interacting with: Everyone aboard the Resurgence.

The meeting was getting out of hand. Marcus wasn't a politician, senator or philosopher. He was the Captain of a ship, and the individuals in the room that bickered and argued with brooding disdain for each other began to pry away at his nerves. When his CNI glitched, the Spartans must have felt it too as the figured known as 'Elizabeth' stepped out from a shadowed corner. They visibly tensed, but didn't bother to draw their weapons. Marcus reached up and boorishly rubbed the sleep still encrusted within the corners of his eyes, speaking up soon after to Elizabeth with a light sigh. "If what you say is true about this 'Anubis' figure, then it is clear that the risk of simply letting them go about to dominate entire universes is enough for me to chip in and help with what I can manage- with the exception of a few upgrades. As for the rest of these individuals here, obviously where their own motivations lie will determine if they help out or not. The last thing I'd want to see from a ragtag assembled fleet such as this is infighting among- what I would presume to be- disciplined individuals in charge of warships. So, if there is a plan of action to be discussed, let's hear what has to be done first and then we can go from there."

Marcus relaxed his arms back to his sides and thumbed the inside of his service jacket sleeves- a habit he'd picked up when his nerves began to grow impatient in him. Empires, Republics, someone called "Palpatine"... it didn't matter unless it became a problem, but at the forefront of his mind was dealing with this Anubis figure. If by some chance they were interconnected, then it would become little more than a hit-list on who to eliminate first within the web of intrigue. The Spartans remained unnervingly silent in the room, with the only real indication of identity seen as three numeric digits stenciled in bold white letters across their left breastplate.


UNSC Unbroken Hope


1530 Hours, April 11th 2550 (Military Calendar) /
Unknown system, Unknown sector, Aboard the Resurgence.


Interacting with: Everyone aboard the Resurgence.

As the room began to fill, the team of six took turns glancing toward the others arriving in the room. The Spartans didn't seem too keen on letting their guard down in the presence of an otherwise diplomatic meeting; still locked onto the Sangheili and ever so slightly shifting closer to the Admiral as the room began to fill. Marcus Oliver seemed rather unfazed as he sat in the uncomfortable chair; now twiddling his thumbs underneath the table as he began to grow impatient. As much as he longed to be back aboard his own vessel despite being in this room for the past forty minutes, he was glad that everyone was as just as lost- if not outright confused- as he was. That, and it was refreshing not to have ONI Spooks breathing down his neck in a situation as predictably outlandish as this. Glancing to the dynamic duo, he allowed a curt smile at the pair's surprise of his timeline. "Believe it or not, appearances can be deceiving."

Turning to the man who spoke, he recognized the voice from the hail earlier. Certainly not from this Resurgence. It was safe to assume that this Caldwell figure had been the one to initially contact everyone- yet why summon them to a different ship for the purposes of a meeting? Marcus glanced toward the mentioned figures and nodded to each of them, remaining silent. His CNI pinged a message from Issac as blue-tinted letters scrolled down along the right side of his vision.

[!ATT (ISC-2869-3) Admiral Oliver, drive is 100%. We've pulled around closer to the ship you're on, about 550m away. Lots of traffic around us.]

He didn't respond- there was no need to. The only hope there was, was to receive the information he'd been curious about, then go about his way. Getting his people out of here and back home was his only priority, and it'd take more than words from some self-appointed HIGH-COM foreign element to convince him to help out.


UNSC Unbroken Hope


1530 Hours, April 11th 2550 (Military Calendar) /
Unknown system, Unknown sector, Aboard the Resurgence.


Interacting with: Everyone aboard the Resurgence.,@EliteCommander

The pitch and tonal inflection of this Sangheili was different, and as he supposed, this was a female. What caught him off guard was the mention of the Covenant's defeat, moreso than her question of when he was pulled from 'his' universe. Raising an eyebrow, even the members of Team Omicron took a brief moment to glance to one another in utter silence; certainly communicating among themselves as they prepared to digest the incoming information. "...Twenty-Five-Fifty. You're telling me that... the war was won? What, was there some sort of internal strife or something? Because as far as I recall, our forces were making strides just fine." Marcus's face suddenly felt hot- there was no way that the Covenant could simply fracture, was there? He wouldn't admit it, but he was in denial faced with the reception of such news. Clearing his throat and swallowing, he tugged at his collar briefly and nodded with a wave of his hand. "I'll.. deal with this information later. I'm assuming your jump drive malfunctioned as well. Yet, why would it pinpoint to the same anomaly that brought us all here? Surely there must be an explanation. Do these... people know anything about it?" He gestured to the Clones; feeling as if he was now talking to a wall and grasping for straws for answers that wouldn't be found. On top of talking civilly with an Elite, Marcus felt damn powerless at the absurdity of the situation finally registering before him.

Marcus eyed a nearby chair across the room, moving to sit down as the five Spartans quickly moved to stay close by his side. They stood upright instead, still fixated on the Elite in the room and largely ignoring everyone else. The chair felt as is someone largely misinterpreted Goldilocks, being too goddamn big for him to seat himself comfortably. Regardless, he folded his hands into his lap and listened for the replies of the individuals around the room. As cautious as he was, he was curious to find out why they were all here, and what could be done about the situation in order to finally get home- if that even was an option to begin with.
So! I have been discharged from the hospital and am most certainly NOT dead. Just posted, and removed my earlier (they really need a delete function implemented) post so I could be more up to date with what's going on.


UNSC Unbroken Hope


1500 Hours, April 11th 2550 (Military Calendar) /
Unknown system, Unknown sector, Aboard the Resurgence.


Interacting with: Everyone aboard the Resurgence.

Marcus Oliver masked his scowl as the familiar form of a Sangheili entered the room. Beyond keeping his grudge placated, he allowed himself to briefly take in the new, unfamiliar environment of the ship. The strange, uniformed men in red and black served as the faceless defense of the warship, and slightly unnerved him. Though, at any rate, they'd probably think the same about his Spartans. Team Omicron stepped up to flank closely on either side of the uniformed Admiral, the unflinching golden gaze of their visor locked onto the Elite and every other potential threat in the room. Marcus cleared his throat, looking over toward Kieran and nodding. "Quite weird, indeed." Oliver sighed, turning his gaze back to the Sangheili and speaking up calmly. "I trust that we're going to be civil here, as much as the years... haven't been, across our worlds. We don't have much of a choice in the matter, and I'd prefer not to engage in unnecessary violence." Resting in the right side of his uniform's beltloop was a black-finished M6C-PDWS, serving as one extra gun alongside the assortment of assault rifles, sniper rifles and shotguns that Team Omicron brought along. The 42 year old Admiral had a gruff complexion about him, with hazel eyes, a strong jaw and a trimmed goatee marked with a horizontal scar running diagonally down alongside his face. Eyeing the others in the room, he rolled his shoulders and attempted at a greeting despite the tension filling the room. "I'm Marcus Oliver, Admiral of the UNSC Unbroken Hope. Despite the circumstances, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
@EliteCommander Marcus, and Team Omicron as security detail. Thanks for understanding, @Zarkun.
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