The Unit RP - OOC

So, for a while I've been wanting to start a group RP based on The Unit but with a little twist (of course) I'd like it to be set either a modern day OR a sci-fi setting. I'm liking the sci-fi setting a lot because there's so much more one could do.

I'm hoping for at least 6 players to start. Either members of the team and/or background characters.

If you're interested, please let me know and once I get enough people interested, I will start everything else.

So, in your reply to this thread, I would need a confirmation/interest, setting (modern or sci-fi) AND if it's a sci-fi setting that you vote for, I would need a species you would like to play.

Suggestions and comments are welcomed!

Zy

I'd be interested.

If you are looking for characters...

Name: Vincent Grey
Agency: NSA (seconded to DIA at present)
Rank: GS-13 (Equivalent to Major/Lt. Col.)
Age: 38
5'8" - 175#

Looks: Nondescript looking white guy, limps a bit and 3 day stubble on he cheeks. He looks like every other late 30's financial guy who spends a lot of time overseas looking for investments in the 3rd world looks like. Think National Geographic type in the Amazon who's at home with either a camera or a Kalashnikov.



Vincent has been around a long time, and has done a lot of interesting things. Don't ask him to tell you about it though. He'd have to kill if he did tell you, and he'd hate to do that.

Vincent was never in the military, but that doesn't mean he's a pushover. The NSA recruited him out of college. He went to MIT and graduated in the top 3% of his class, and was a champion rifle shooter and captain of the judo team.
The NSA saw something they liked, and they jumped on it.

Vince liked to learn, the NSA sent him to all the schools they could and everyone was happy...except for Vincent's time at Jump School. That...was bad. He didn't like jumping out of perfectly good aircraft.

While the NSA is primarily responsible for electronic intelligence, they do keep a stable of people on hand to be able to act on it without going outside the agency - or if it does have to go outside the agency, they want someone right their making sure nobody fucks things up...or steals the credit.

With terrorism and trans-national crime being more and more of a threat, the NSA likes to make sure it's not left behind.

He's spent the War on Terror (and many years before) in various places he doesn't discuss, doing things with (and to) people who won't be mentioned, and acting as trouble shooter on call (in the figurative and literal sense...) for various senior people in the US Government.

While he can shoot, loot and blow shit up just fine, he's more of a problem solver.

His last tasking was in South America monitoring the rise of Islamic Fundamentalism in the Southern Western Hemisphere, and it's interaction with FARC. What happened on the assignment - nobody knows...But the problem (Sorry, need to know only. I'm glad you understand.) "got solved".

FARC & Hezbollah aren't on speaking terms right now, shall we say...

He was preparing to be in Russia with a CIA Special Activities Division Political Action Unit doing...sorry. You aren't cleared (rumors say Iran is the target, but those are just rumors...)...but someone above him got the brilliant idea to have him here and he was pulled from the team.

He got tasked to work with the new "Group" last minute, and he's not exactly thrilled to be here while his usual team is on a Gulf Stream over the Atlantic as we speak.

Whatever the hell these people do must be important, even if nobody told him what the hell was going on. It's a high priority group, that's for sure...but what they do...

It's been a while since he was in the position of not knowing what was going on.

Thank you so much Gomer, I like it

Now we'll just need to see who else wants to join (hint hint to those out there reading this)

bumping!

Bumping the bump

zydrate said:

bumping!

Click to expand...

Dam...nobody else wants to be a spy...

I could get in on this, but I need some time for a formal character formulation. I have a character in mind.

I vote for sci-fi
Species: Human, space colonist (think Mars, or from a space station orbiting one of Neptune's moons or something)

She can be altered for modern day, however

CaramelLuv said:

I could get in on this, but I need some time for a formal character formulation. I have a character in mind.

I vote for sci-fi
Species: Human, space colonist (think Mars, or from a space station orbiting one of Neptune's moons or something)

She can be altered for modern day, however

Click to expand...

really? Great!

*******
Char Format:

Name:
Age:
Sex:
Appearance: (picture or description)
Background:

*******

I like future too...or modern.... I like them all!!

Thanks!!!

Awesome. Did you want me to make her modern, and then alter her if need be?

CaramelLuv said:

Awesome. Did you want me to make her modern, and then alter her if need be?

Click to expand...

sure! sounds good!

The Unit is predominantly male on the show. Are we allowing female officer/members?

CaramelLuv said:

The Unit is predominantly male on the show. Are we allowing female officer/members?

Click to expand...

damn right!

Name: Cassiopeia Ariadne Temakis
Callsign: Stars
Rank: Sergeant
Nickname: Cassi, Cat
Age: 28
Sex: Female
Appearance: http://i1117.photobucket.com/albums/k587/fyreflye09/cressidaa3d.jpg

(my friend did this 3-D rendering for me)

She is 5'5', 138 lb, with short, black hair, light gray eyes, and an olive complexion. She is athletic in form, with a slim build. She seems an unassuming woman, with a quiet, observant air. Don't let it fool you...

Background:

Born the second daughter and middle child to Cressida and Davos Temakis, two scholars transplanted from Greece in their youth, Cassi grew up in Baltimore, Maryland, in a predominantly Greek area with her older sister, Andromeda and younger brother, Orion.

At a young age, Cassi showed a penchant for languages, and thus was reinforced at an early age to learn as many languages as possible. In college she majored in Arabic and Farsi, and minored in International Relations and Security Studies. She had decided at an early age that she wanted to work for the CIA out of college, as a covert operations officer. As it stands she is fluent in Greek, English, Farsi and Arabic, and fairly well-spoken and able to read/write in Spanish, French, and Italian. She is currently working on learning Mandarin, but she finds it more of a challenge when trying to read it, and as an adult is finding it harder to learn.

Due to her expertise in languages, she was approached by the military to work in reconnaissance and translation services. It wasn't the CIA, but she figured she could impress the right people to make the change. She did well at her combat, firearms, and jump training, applying herself to them the same way she applied herself to languages. What she wasn't all that great at, however, was electronics. The amount of wires, and the numbers associated with them often made her cross-eyed, but thankfully she wasn't usually needed to disarm a bomb or anything timely like that.

While she was on a reconnaissance mission in Turkey she was approached by the brass to be part of an unnamed group. The officer had assured her that it was actually an honor, and she had been commended for her good work. She had raised an eyebrow at that, but orders were orders. Though... would this new assignment get her closer to her CIA dreams? She hoped so.

Just some setting...

Location: Eglin Air Force Base, FL
Secured Terminal #3 - Briefing room

Vincent reviewed his planned operation once again. They were wheels up in 1 hour.

He checked the communication gear, encryption codes, bank covers, document and, most importantly, conducted a last minute review of social habits in his destination.

Did people tip, if so how much...what was the common breakfast...how do natives take their tea...

The little things that screw people up.

You aren't from Tennessee and not like Sweet Tea...you aren't a Russian if you take cavier and sour cream on a bilini...

He'd been par of planning this op for over a year, getting things into place and everything was going to be perfect.

He once again checked his bags. Good. Euro manufacture. Shoes were Italian, suits were Italian, French and German. Shaving kit was a Swiss brand commonly sold all over...perscriptions were French & Dutch.

Weapons, German...he double checked to make sure the night sights installed were European, not American. Ammo, RWS. Swiss. Good.

Details, details...

Everything was set.

He looked around and saw the team was doing the same thing. Everyone was checking to make sure their were no slipups. No US manufacture underware, shoes or other tells.

"Everyone set?" the commander asked.

Everyone answered in the affirmative.

"OH, wheels up in 1 hour. On the plane in 45 min. Давайте зробимо це право!" he said, the last part in Ukranian - Let's do this right!

"завжди" Vince replied - Always, in English.

Just then, their was a knock on the door and the guard announced the entrance of a visitor.

Who it was, nobody knew, but he had to be cleared Top Secret to get this far. None-the-less, files were closed, laptops were shut and while hands didn't go to weapons...they were ready.

This was a very top secret op, and mistakes in this line of work didn't end well.

The man walked through the door was known to them all. He was John D. Bennett.

The John D. Bennett.

Director John D. Bennett of the National Clandestine Service.

The reaction was the same for everyone in the room - Holy Shit.
This was Spy #1. When he talked, you listened.

Everyone stood, and as they were doing so, he waved his hand, saying "As you were. I have a priority 1-A matter I need to discuss with your team leader and the DIA liaison officer."

Vince and his team commander follwed Mr. Bennett out of the room into a seperate secure conference room.

Bennett was blunt, "John, we need Vincent on another matter. He's off your team. His #2 is going to cover for him. Dismissed."

With that, the Team Commander left.

"Vincent, I know you were planning this for a long time, and it's no reflection on you being pulled like this. I came down here to tell you that in person because I know what you've put into this op, but I need on on another project. The punishment for hard work is more hard work, and I need to make sure something gets started without it blowing up in everyone's face."

He handed Vincent a folder with his new tasking and indicated he look now.

It was standard USGI travel orders to his new post and no further info.

"Sir..." Vincent started, but was then cut off.

"I know, I don't like it either. This isn't our project, but NSA, DIA and I talked, and we need you on this. You will be read into the project on arrival. You leave with me to D.C., then travel onward."

Bennett left, Vince follwed in his wake to to GulfStream waiting...

More setting:

The Gulfstream was sparcely appointed, not the jet a high level government official was entitled to.

It was one of the fleet Vince had flown in before on short notice missions.

Fast, lightweight, the interior configurable for anything from communications intercept, a hospital or facilities to give terrorists flight lessons.

"If they learn to fly before they hit the ground..."

(Not that they did that anymore...much.)

Director Bennett was on a phone call for most of the trip in the front of the plane. Vince spent the time thinking. Brooding.

Depressed.

His plan. It was his plan.

He did the operational memorandum, the legwork...hell, he briefed the President on it.

Now, it was gone. Out of his hands...it would succeed or fail without him. In the shadows.

One way or another, he would never know how things go.

The director left a bottle of his favorite bourbon for him. That depressed him even more.

When he was on mission, he didn't drink bourbon. If he was supposed to be Ukranian, he drank vodka.

He sighed. It really was official...he wasn't going with his team.

Shit. He uncorked the bottle of Knob Creek and poured himself a triple, then put it down without any effort.

The 100 proof alcohol took the edge off, and he poured himself another.

He stared out the window. The night passed by and he sipped his drink.

When the plane began to decend, Director Bennett came out of the secure area, and saw Vince had drank half the bottle.

He poured himself a triple in a glass, put ice in it, getting a dirty look from Vince, and sat down.

"What?" he asked.

"Ice." Vince said.

"Don't give me that shit. I know, I know...enjoy it warm..." he said. Continuing, "I know you are pissed. Get over it. We're forming a action cell for deniable operations, and I need someone like you in on this. Your fucking spooky, you've got good judgement and know how to handle yourself when the shit hits the fan and you get left behind."

The director was referring to Iran, 2004.

Both shuddered.

That was ugly. Very ugly.

"If you think I'm getting into that shit again, I'll retire." Vince said.

"No, you won't. You are a junkie for this shit." The director retorted.

Vince took another drink. Fuck him, he thought...wishing the director was wrong.

The plane landed. The director got up and said "Once this bird refules, you are on your way. We'll be in touch when you arrive. I've got to get to the White House. The shits hitting the fan in China, and I need to remind the VP that he gutted my Asia office last budget meeting. Vince. If shit goes to hell, get out. I don't even want to know how, where or any details. I'm going to give you the credit of being smart, so I know you've got off the books stashes of documents and cash."

The director finished his drink.

"I hope they are good ones."

He left.

The flight crew was replaced with another crew, the consumables were replenished and Vince stood on the airfield as the evolution was carried out.

Nobody asked who he was, why he was their or where he was going.

They had no need to know, other than the pilots.

The plane was ready, and he boarded.

When it took off, dawn was breaking.

zydrate said:

If you're interested, please let me know and once I get enough people interested, I will start everything else.

So, in your reply to this thread, I would need a confirmation/interest, setting (modern or sci-fi) AND if it's a sci-fi setting that you vote for, I would need a species you would like to play.

Suggestions and comments are welcomed!

Zy

Click to expand...

I'm game for this. There's hardly any good modern RP in the other forums I visit. This'd be a nice refresher from all them swords and spells. It's no biggie whether it's modern or SF really.


If it *is* SF, can I play something with tentacles? ^_^; HHSS

Oh, and... er... hi! ^_^;

I'd like to keep it modern.

I'd like to keep it modern too...and I'm working on a post as I type

Awesome! Can't wait to start!

Cool. Modern it is. ^_^

Here's a rough sketch of my character:

Name: Tyler Sasaki

Callsign: Tiger Owl

Age: 30

Sex: Male

Appearance: Coming in at 5'6" high, 145 lbs. Tyler's features betray his mixed heritage with his copper-toned skin, dark black hair and oriental brown eyes. Lean and athletic, Tyler can be unobtrusive when he wishes it, but not so much that he's invisible in public. With the proper attire and grooming, he can draw as many eyes as he wishes, and as the situation warrants.

http://www.behindthevoiceactors.com/_img/actors/actor_8835.jpg

Background: The only son of Seth Sakaki, a Japanese-American computer parts manufacturer, and Alexandra Wolf's Arrow, a Shoshone schoolteacher, Tyler spent his youth equally between the wilds of Inyo County and the gleam and polish of Silicon Valley. He had a particularly deep relationship with his grandfather, Isa.

While his youth was academically nondescript, Tyler displayed his true aptitude in the wilderness training he received from his grandfather and the martial arts training his father insisted he go through. These inculcated in him a sense of discipline and personal responsibility that would see him through while he earned his degree in Business Administration --which he hated personally, but went through due to his father's "wishes" and and as a favor to his mother.

Shortly after his college years, a rash of serial murders swept the Inyo County reservation, with Tyler's grandfather counting among the victims. Tyler's assistance led to the capture of the killer and gained him local fame. Even after being invited to join the FBI, Tyler preferred an avenue where he'd be more able to use his talents and joined the Army instead.

Despite (or perhaps due to) distinguishing himself during Operation ROBIN SAGE, Tyler was assigned as Assistant Operations Sergeant to B-Team --which he bemoaned as a "glorified desk job".

His capabilities, however, seem to have attracted the notice of the right people --Tyler has recently been approached by mysterious "someones" offering him a position in an unnamed field unit.

Are we doing a separate thread?

Nah.

Lets get it rolling...

Arrivals and backgrounds

(OOC - thought I'd provide some background as well, especially since we are really wanting to get this moving forward.)

Casi:

It was this small city in New England. Where she was, Cassi had no idea, but she thought she saw a Vermont license plate on a passing truck. Her jet had landed in a field just at the edge of some woods, and she felt like she had stepped into a mixture of the Twilight Zone and Green Acres. She was led to a waiting government issued vehicle, the typical black sedan with tinted windows and an equally non-descript driver. They drove for what felt like hours, but it was probably something more like half an hour.

Her questions of "Where are we?" and "Where am I going?" went unanswered, even when she spoke in all the languages of her repertoire. The man was either deaf, didn't understand any language she knew, or was just ignoring her. She seriously considered the last one the most probable of them all.

Eventually they arrived at a river and they followed it up to a former mill-looking structure.

"Gaia Couriers International" was the sign at the gate and she was motioned to get out of the car. Apparently the sedan wasn't driving her into the facility. That was.... weird. As she stepped out, the guard handed her a manila envelope, and pointed her out to the brick building closest to the water's edge.

"Welcome to GCI, Ma'am. Just head on over to administration. It's right over there. Enter through the blue door then open your envelope. It will tell you where to go from there." the guard said as he stepped back and away with military alacrity and an expressionless face, his tone clipped.

"GCI? What the..."

"Sergeant Temakis, we know who you are. All will be answered inside." he cut her off smoothly as she readied her question then motioned again to the "Blue door".

Shaking her head, Cassi shouldered her bag and moved in the direction of the designated building. Couriers? What the hell was going on?

"The coffee could have been better..." Vince thought.

It really could have been.

The United States Government can make a tactical nuclear device fit into a suitcase, a laser capable of burning through 5 mm of steel in 5 seconds into a ballpoint pen and a drone that can read newspapers through a window...at night...

And they stick a covert operations units with 1960's coffee making gear.

Typical.

He poured himself a cup, added splenda, half & half, stirred and drank.

At least the danish were good.

He looked at the machines which were older than he was.

In Iran, he had a Kureg. With the K-cups.

Sigh. He'd pick one up later.

Typical.

Well. He was here.

Wherever it was. His flight landed in Boston, he opened his sealed orders waiting for him with the TSA, collected the car and he was on his way to bumfuck nowhere.

The guards were professionals, he saw. Several of them he had seen around before...men who did their jobs without asking too many questions.

Not the most personable people, but then again...they weren't paid to be.

He was directed into the room he currently sat in, lounging on a threadbare couch watching CNN financial on the smart-board mounted on the wall.

He'd been going since Florida, and his suit looked like it had been slept in...it had. If this place or this town didn't have a laundry, he'd need to buy a new suit to replace it.

Ah, well. That's what bluefly.com, false ID's and high limit government AMEX cards were for...

A young woman walked through the door. She looked like she was still taking in the suddenness of the unit's establishment.

He looked over at her and said, "Hi. The coffee sucks, the danish don't. Bathroom is that way to the right, water cooler is down the hall. Did you see a dry-cleaners on your ride in? I'm Vincent. So...are you the stone killer, the tech geek, then honey trap or the administrative assistant...and do you have a preference for any particular kind of takeout food? I'm about to order out?..."

Cassi tore open her envelope once she got just past the blue door, read her instructions, written in Farsi, mind, and followed them guardedly. Why they couldn't just use English she couldn't begin to understand. Maybe it was a test? As she approached what looked like a half assed attempt at a waiting room, she dropped her sack with a thud. She wasn't wearing fatigues, but rather a dark green v neck and a khaki ankle-length tweed skirt as well as brown supple leathered knee-high boots. Over it all was a dark brown women's trenchcoat.

She glanced over at the guy in a rumpled suit and raised an eyebrow, her mouth pursing. "I'm sorry what dif you call me? Honey trap?"