In reply to Volstaff (msg # 10):

"Well, before becoming the best I can be, I was a real doctor. Medical school and the whole nine yards. The fact that I am a captain is something beyond my control, believe me."

Turning to the rest of the room, "Any of the rest of you up for a midday cap?"

In reply to tdrost (msg # 11):

A few grunts and maybe I'll meet up with you laters give you an answer.

In reply to Jess (msg # 12):

Then we set off to that fine drinking establishment.

In reply to tdrost (msg # 13):

You step outside and the cold immediately makes it's presence felt. Leaving the base on foot, you make your way down a few streets whose neighborhoods have been demolished from fire, or rioting, but then you see the bar. It is an old house where the roof is partially gone as is the front part of the building. There is a makeshift shack replacing the front. A sign with the word "DRINKS" painted on it and the smell of fried food greet you as you walk through the door.

In reply to Jess (msg # 14):

I scan the room, taking in the type and approximate numbers of the patrons based on their appearances before making my way to an open table.

In reply to tdrost (msg # 15):

"Looks a little busy", as I pull out a chair and sit down.  "Of course, with the weather, not a lot of crop - tending going on. So you were a full - blown doctor before getting your commission? Figured you'd at least be a major."

In reply to Volstaff (msg # 16):

"By all rights I should be a full-blown colonel by now and not an operator. That is, however, like they say the way the cookie crumbles. What are we doing here anyway? This many people grouped together is just inviting trouble in one way or another to show up."

In reply to tdrost (msg # 17):

While you are talking a petite middle aged woman approaches your table. "What can I get you guys?"

In reply to Jess (msg # 18):

"Beer for me and whatever this old guy across the table will have," I say with a sly grin at Jorge. Turning toward Jorge, "Don't worry, I'll only bust your chops for being older than most of us for a little while."

In reply to tdrost (msg # 17):

"Those damn cookies always have a habit of crumbling at the worst time, in the worst possible way, don't they? I probably should be a major now, or at least a lot closer to it than I am now, but as the saying goes, shit happens."

In reply to Volstaff (msg # 20):

"Very true, very true." Scan the room again and see if I notice anything out of what goes for ordinary these days.

In reply to Jess (msg # 18):

"Well, er, sorry, I didn't get your name, I will be having something that looks and maybe even tastes like beer. My friend is old enough to order for himself."

In reply to tdrost (msg # 22):

Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. A few mid day workers drinking and eating what looks to be sad, but adequate food. The waitress replies "I'm Molly. Beers for the both of of ya then. Can I get you boys something to eat? The owner slaughtered a goat this morning, and the meat is expensive, but tasty"

In reply to Jess (msg # 23):

"Strange, Molly, you mentioned goat and tasty in the same sentence. That is definately new. Set us up for a bit of tasty bearded sheep, will ya?"

Not looking forward to goat but food is food, after all.

In reply to tdrost (msg # 24):

Your beer comes quickly. Molly brings it to you in glasses that are chipped, but at least they are clean. Your conversation continues while you drink, an extremely hoppy brew with a trace metallic flavor. It is definitely in both of your books one of the top ten worst beers you ever had. Your meal finally arrives. Some deep fat fried meaty chunks. It isn't that bad, though it could have used more spice. This time of day, the place is mainly a place of gossip and complaining. You overhear a few people talking about how miserable their days have been, and then you hear a conversation that makes your ears perk up: the rumor that the Mexican Civil War has ended, and Texas is no longer part of the United States.

In reply to Jess (msg # 25):

"Well, not gonna miss Texas that much, hot, dry, dusty and filled with dubious characters, but I know someone will get the idea we need to take it back and then it is our helmets resting on our rifles for their land. Way it has always been, always will be."

In reply to tdrost (msg # 26):

"But, did Texas become its own country, like they've wanted to do for years, or did Mexico take it back? If Mexico took it back, you can sure bet whatever government we have left is going to want to take it back for the oil down there. I can't see them letting Mexico keep that oil and making us pay for it. Hell, this country, what's left of it, is so far in debt it isn't funny. Texas becoming independent wouldn't be quite as bad, but I foresee us being used to go down there and 'convince' them to come back to the U.S. Either way, it certainly sounds like what the powers that be might have in store for us."

"Man, you'd think they could come up with SOMETHING to season this meat with." I look around to make sure bar staff aren't able to overhear and ensuring that the coast is clear whisper to Jorge, "I think we've had better tasting MREs."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:32, Thu 09 Nov 2017.

In reply to Volstaff (msg # 27):

A few hours go by. The big news is Texas. The few troops that were still in control of Northern Texas fled. The big rumor is that somehow Division Cuba (the large Soviet force that spearheaded the drive into Texas) had somehow gotten a stable supply of fuel. Everyone is wondering when the government is going south to take it back and speculating if the oil supplies from Oklahoma will be enough to make a drive in (Oklahoma has one of the few operating refineries in Mil Gov hands). You have become embroiled in this conversation, as most of the bar's patrons are soldiers or base staff. The discussion comes to an abrupt halt when you hear a loud pop, and the building shakes. Something has happened on the street outside...

In reply to Jess (msg # 28):

Roll off my chair, drawing my sidearm as I do.

"You got a weapon on you, get it out and take cover!", I yell to the crowd.

Make my way, ducking for cover as I do, to the wall nearest the sound. I risk a quick glimpse out of the window.

In reply to Jess (msg # 28):

Jumping up from my chair and drawing my pistol, I dash to the door, opening it enough to peer outside, in the direction of the noise.

"What the hell was that?" I exclaim, as I survey the situation from the crack of the door.

In reply to Volstaff (msg # 30):

Peering outside you see utter chaos. There is a HUMVEE near the intersection leading from the city to the barracks that is burning in a wild and uncontrolled blaze. The fire and smoke is boiling from the truck and the smell of burning diesel and human flesh greet bombard your senses. A few rounds from the machine gun in the turret cook off now and then, adding to the chaos. You see several civilians running for cover or standing staring in shock at the disaster right in front of them. From your vantage point, you see no discernible cause for the explosion, but the realization that the vehicle was manned when it exploded hits you.

In reply to Jess (msg # 31):

"I doubt that it is because they forgot to do preventive maintenance. We need to get out there and take a look. I think that we need to go out the side, work up the street a bit and then approach from another angle."

[OOC: is there a side or back entrance?]

In reply to tdrost (msg # 32):

Yes, there is a rear entrance

In reply to Jess (msg # 33):

"Misguided child of my dear uncle, you up for this? We go out the back, I go left, you right. Then we can see if we can make our way up the street a bit."

Capt. Stanley Judah "Ray-Ban" Rabinowicz, was walking through Colorado Springs. Again. The need for competent engineers was too high for him to really get time off. The questions were constant, "Will this building stand?" "How can we drop this building?" "What can we salvage from this?" and so many other questions. Not to mention the demolition portion of his training to clear some of the nastier areas.

Somebody, somewhere nearby, had set up an operation producing dynamite. Actual dynamite. It was a frightening thought. One mistake with the amount of nitroglycerin they had to be producing, it wouldn't be very pretty. It was a better solution considering the military had seized everything else for operations. At least better that clearing everything by hand. He just hoped that the lab, or worse, a garage operation that was producing the stuff was well away from the city.

'Oy vey, this will never ever end.' he thought to himself. His upbringing had instilled the typical complaining that was automatic. It was a stereotype and he hated playing into it, but it was almost automatic. The construction and demolition crews could spend years fixing up the city. It was nice to see everyone working as one for society, at least here, elsewhere was a different situation. People were pretty much either rebuilding or farming. A few did some other jobs, but pretty much every civilian, even some military personnel was involved. They even had the people disabled by the war and the few left from before the war working in shops salvaging stuff from debris. Everything was in such short supply that even nails were being reused.

The news about Texas was depressing, it was his home, whatever might be left of it. It had to be bad down there. He just couldn't see many of his fellow Texans taking well at all to the Soviets and Cubans taking over. He could easily imagine the guerilla war they would be fighting. He was also pretty sure his parents and his brother and sister were dead by now. All of them lived in the Houston area nevering having strayed far from home.

Walking back to base to check on the work being done there. At least he would be able to drop off his M4 and ALICE gear. It was a pain to carry around town, there weren't really any bandits that would come near, but rules were there for a reason. He'd have time to grab a sandwich, decidedly not kosher, but filling at least before continuing on to work again. He was almost there when there was a the altogether too familiar feel of a pressure wave followed by the dull 'Crump' of an explosion. Instinctively diving and rolling onto the side of the road before truly realizing what was going on.

"Fuck!" Stanley yelled. 'Not good, no scheduled demolitions for the area' he thought as he peeked up from cover to see a Humvee burning in the middle of the road. "Ah crap." pulling his M4 from it's slung position.
This message was last edited by a game editor at 15:45, Mon 13 Nov 2017.