OOC: https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/patriot-police-american-all-stars.35026/ - EPISODE 1: Forth into the Fourth Dimension! There was a small town called Picketdale somewhere within the heart of the American Midwest. And some short distance from that was Canterbury City. A bustling metropolis of opportunity and skyscrapers that any small time suburban could go visit. And even smaller farming towns like Baleville could see it too, for a slightly longer drive past the suburbs. Mrs. Carmen was stepping out of her jewelry shop. She had opened it three months ago, and was quite proud of herself for managing the entire business herself. Her husband kept busy as a construction worker, but Mrs. Carmen was savvy when it came to business. She had convinced all sorts of folk to come back to her shop, for the goods she possessed were simply the most unique designs on the lower south side, and had captivated her customers with their intricate beauty and nearly-within reach prices. She locked the door behind her and made sure that the security was in place: Cage doors were lowered onto the windows and front door, and alarms were wired. But what Mrs. Carmen would never realize was that she had forgotten something from her bag inside. She had returned to take it back, and had seen a shadow out the corner of her eye, and almost faintly a strange bright yellow jumpsuit with red trimming and accents to it. She had gone over to see who had appeared, and was shocked to find her products gone, and the safeguards all but untouched: And yet the alarm did not sound!... Surely she had gone mad... - Maynard Air Force base was lively with its usual business of uniforms marching about and the hauling of heavy machinery, sometimes from as early as 3:00AM at night. But it was approximately 10:55AM. And on Maynard Air Force Base, the people there had it cushy when they weren't working on priority science projects and/or were on high alert. As such, breakfast services were still on in the cafeteria, and all had been well. But one such fellow had went to bed in a timely manner, and woke up early to eat a breakfast carefully balanced by health specialists to maintain his physical status. Ethan Morgan was clad in grey army t-shirt with a chest based holster and a pair of shorts and running shoes. Ahead of him in the large, specialized gym was a series of mega-durable obstacle course elements, ranging from hurdles to miniature jungle gyms and the like. He was the Man-Of-War. And he had to play the part in mind and body. Ethan's leaps and swings were swift like a gymnast, and yet much faster with the power in his reflexes as he hurled himself past bars, sliding under small openings and climbing higher and higher every few minutes, putting his muscle to as much of a test as his agility, for targets and pads had been set up all over the place. Ethan reached to the holster, quick-drawing the weapon and firing at any targets out of his reach, as well as a couple of the pads with effective precision-- which in reality would have been shots for non-lethal means of neutralizing the average human being. He landed on three: Both legs bent into a crouch, and his left hand reaching the ground as his right hand kept the faux firearm up, pure instinct and muscle memory from sessions past kicking in as he pretended to blow the smoke off of his training firearm, which had fired small red paint pellets. He twirled the pistol a bit, and holstered it back into place as he stepped over to a table to take hold of a stopwatch. It was a bit short of his usual numbers, but without as much active duty he was trapped in the doldrums. - "So I says to 'em..." Began Billy, clad in his army issued fatigues. "I'll fix your ride up good, creep! And then I hit the belt and sent the guy on a vacation: Bet he's still soarin' through the clouds! None of the science guys 'er any a'the ladies on base'll believe me." Billy was with a band of troops near his own age, conversing with them on strange adventures and epic stories of hilarity and humor, as he scarfed down the bacon and eggs. Like the others, he was too busy speaking and giving off hearty laughter to use table manners. But then again, it was the 'Mess Hall.' Nothing really wrong there, they had figured.