Flight 265 [IC] - Issue 1 - Awakenings

[The_New_Guy]

First, a few ground-rules. I'm not particularly fussy from what voice you write - I try to use 3rd person past-tense, but that's just me. Feel free to use whatever voice you please. I would, however, appreciate it if everyone would pick a colour for their speech. NPC's will also have their own distinct colours, though minor ones may see their colours reused in time.

I would also appreciate it if you would put a brief header at the top of every one of your posts, just so I know what character I'm reading. Bold is nice, but again, unnecessary.

And finally, please begin the your first post with a brief description of your character. You don't have to go into a whole lot of detail, just what they look like.

And now...

Flight 265 - Awakenings
November 6th, 2007. It'd been a cool, dry autumn in the north-east, the kind that cuts through every layer of clothing one wore and chilled a body to the bone and shakes every leaf from the trees. No brilliant displays of crimson on the trees - this year every drop of colour lay on the ground, as if someone had stabbed the forests and left them to bleed out. But none of that mattered to you. You were heading - for vacation, or for work, or to get away, or to go home - to the sunny side of the world. The west coast. Los Angeles. California. Where temperatures stay well on the happy side of freezing. Of course, the flying was no fun - it was a long flight, and it was delayed, and there was at least one fussy baby on the flight - you heard he/she/it while sitting at the gate. You didn't bother to look for the source too hard - you couldn't do anything about the seating arrangements anyways. You just prayed fervently that you wouldn't have to listen to the screaming for an entire trip.

There were too many people to keep track of anyways. A young woman with a garment bag - it was white, which meant it probably contained a wedding dress; a well dressed suit; a young man with the young woman with the wedding dress; a fellow who looked like he had just stepped out of a garage; a pregnant woman. All sitting. Waiting. And the plane was late. Naturally.

It finally arrived 15 minutes after you were supposed to board, and after another 25 minutes to let arriving passengers off and the crew clean the beast, you finally boarded. First class and people with small children first (thankfully the husband and wife with the screaming child took advantage of the early boarding - granting you a moment's respite) then the rest of the plane back to front. You handed your ticket to the gate agent, had it scanned, handed over your ID and...

...darkness.

Not the "whacked on the back of the head with something heavy and hard" darkness. Not the "oh my god I'm suddenly blind" darkness. Not even the "damn it - a power outage. Now I'll never get to LA" darkness. Just darkness. Emptiness. A void. Images flickered at the edges of your perception, so brief and distant that you weren't even sure they were there. The pregnant woman. The married couple. Your family (how'd they get on the plane). A man almost wrapped in shadow, in a black trench coat. It lasted for a second. It lasted for an eternity. And then...

...cold.

The first thought that echoed through your mind was that it was freezing. Like you were lying on a sheet of ice in the middle of the arctic. Not a sheet of ice. Metal. It was metallic. You were sure of it. Well, planes had never been comfortable. You must have dozed off. A shot of curiosity shot through you as you wondered how much more of this torture you would have to endure. You opened your eyes.

Big mistake. It was bright - bright like staring into the sun at noon with a telescope bright. Your eyes shut not of your will, but of their own accord, and screamed in protest at you for subjecting them to such a painful experience. The first thought through your mind - well, the first thought through your mind that didn't include epithets directed squarely at the source of your pain, was 'why is it so bright in here'? Because the flight had been an evening flight. And it shouldn't have been so bright. Unless the yahoo next to you had turned on the overhead light. Well - turned on the overhead light and amplified by a few million orders of magnitude.

It was around then that you realized you were no longer seated in your uncomfortable airplane reclining chair. You were lying on some kind of steel bed. Not quite as uncomfortable as the airplane you mused, but certainly something to be concerned about. How did you wind up here? Did something happen on the flight? Were you sick? Did you get drunk and get arrested? Kidnapped? By aliens? A thousand different possibilities flashed before your mind's eye, and in the end you decided to sit up and try and get a handle on where you were.

Sitting up, sadly, was a lot more trouble than you expected. Every muscle in your back and arms and stomach groaned with the exertion. Like they were lifting a two ton barrel of bricks. Not that you had ever lifted such a barrel. Come to think of it, you weren't even sure such a thing existed. But if it did, then you figured that must've been what it felt like. After you rested a moment from the effort of sitting up, you raised a hand to shield your eyes and tried to open them again. It worked. The pain was only excruciating this time. And after you blinked away the water, you could see your dimly-lit surroundings (you realized, with a bit of a start, that as bright as it seemed the room was *not* as bright as seven suns).

A nondescript medical room. Devices, monitors on either wall, blinking and beeping occasionally. Read-outs you didn't quite understand. And a corporate symbol you didn't recognize. X-Corp, or some such. You didn't like that. The facility was top notch, but the name - while catchy - didn't ring a bell. That seemed bad. But there was a door, and it seemed to be equipped the the standard door handle (somehow it eased your mind - perhaps you figured any alien space craft or secret government science agency would use flashier automatic doors). And so you poked your head out, at the same time as six other people. Each in a rather revealing hospital gown (that you realized you were also wearing).

Two of the people you recognized - the short, blonde-ish girl with the blue eyes that had been carrying her wedding dress at the gate. Her face was filled with concern - mixed with the squinting one easily recognized as that of a person without their glasses - but the concern lifted slightly when she saw (and finally recognized after a few moments of trying to bring him into focus) the young man with dark hair and blue eyes that were almost a shade of grey - the man she had been sitting with waiting for the plane.

[ChronicLunacy]

Daniel Horton

"F*ck..."

Daniel groaned as he sat up on the steel table he found himself lying upon. He leaned foreward over his legs and wrapped an arm around his stomach, feeling like he'd just been hit by the entire Nebraska defensive line. He hadn't ached this bad since his old football days, and even then it was usually a good ache like the ones you got when you ran an extra mile during your workout. This time he just felt stiff and sore and confused. Some kind of hospital?

Daniel swung his legs slowly over the side of the bed and hissed when his bare feet came into contact with the cold floor. He hopped in place for a moment, feeling his body still protesting the movement. What had happened to the plane? The last thing he remembered he was handing his ticket to the guy at the gate and was thinking about his ex-wife Jessie...then...nothing. He remembered feeling cold, so cold and dark but it was all fuzzy. It was just a big, black blank from the airport to...whatever "X-Corp" was.

What the hell was going on? Had he gotten drunk on the plane? He winced at the thought... No, he'd told himself he wasn't going to do that anymore, but he'd been so nervous...he might have...but he couldn't remember. It occurred to him that the plane had gone down, but what were the chances that he'd survived something like that? They told you all about the safety precautions and the flotation device under your seat and all of that crap but if the plane crashed you knew deep down that not even the stupid little oxygen mask was going to help you. He wasn't injured...just aching like he'd been on a bench press for five days straight without breaks. Was he the only survivor?

Daniel had to get out of that room. All the medical odds and ends were making him nervous. Ever since he'd had his appendix out hospitals gave him the heeby-jeebies. He tried the door to find it mercifully unlocked. He hadn't gotten drunk and arrested at least, or else they might have handcuffed him to the bed or locked him in or something...at least put a guard on him. So, he poked his head out to find himself staring at six others wearing similarly surprised expressions.

It was then that Daniel noticed that he, along with the others, were wearing nothing but hospital gowns. You know, the kind that makes your butt stick out and wave at everyone? Daniel was a good-looking guy for his early thirties, with the broad-shouldered, muscular build of someone who went to the gym religiously. His ex-wife used to love his six-pack so he'd done every kind of extreme sport a formerly wealthy stockbroker could afford to try. Boxing, SCUBA, rock climbing, he'd done it all and benefited. His eyes were startlingly light green in comparison to his otherwise dark, handsome features and stood out as the first thing one would notice about his face. He had dark brown hair, cut close to his scalp in a conservative business look and no facial hair. He had a strong jaw and well-shaped cheekbones as well. All in all, someone you tended to trust when he smiled and sold you something. One of those young, strong businessmen out for their place on the corporate ladder. Still, in an assless hospital gown he was a little out of his element and hid himself behind the door as much as he could while keeping his head in the hallway.

"Uh...does anyone know if we made it to LA?" he offered awkwardly.

[Green Bean]

Nathan James

Nathan moaned wordlessly as he tried to sit up. He moved his arms around behind him, trying to support himself, but immediately regretted it as they screamed in protest. Slowly and painfully, he managed to slowly sit up and look around.

It looked like a hospital of some sort, but it looked wrong somehow. Why was there a corporate logo all over the machines? For that matter, what were all the machines taking readings from with nothing hooked up?

Nathan furrowed his brow as he tried to remember what happened to him. Last thing he remembered, he'd been getting in line to get on the plane with that kid screaming right behind him. Had the plane crashed? No. He was totally unharmed, aside from the terrible cramps. He remembered the gate, and how nervous he was sure he looked, because he kept eyeing... the briefcase!

Desperately, Nathan looked around the room for his missing luggage, ignoring the residual pain from his eyes. He slumped slightly when he saw no sign of it, but comforted himself with the idea of talking to the management. Surely they knew where it was.

With this in mind, he staggered across the room, noticing as he did so that his business suit had been replaced with a slightly immodest hospital gown. He'd have to chat with the administrator, to see if he couldn't track down his old possessions.

As he looked down, he noticed how little he had changed from the wait at the flight's gate. His body displayed no particular signs scars or injuries. It looked as it always did, with few muscles, but little fat; the stomach of a man with a high metabolism, but little time to exercise. He examined himself in the mirror to make sure his face had been similarly untouched. He quickly confirmed that it was all there, from the dark brown hair in a conservative cut designed to look unoffensive, to his greyish-blue eyes and moderate chin.

Noticing that from the back, he was a little exposed, he stuck his head out the door. He heard a man ask a question.

"I...don't think so. I guess something happened enroute. Does anyone remember anything?"

[Kesnit]

Eric McMahon

Eric opened his eyes, then closed them again. Thinking was easier without the blinding, painful light. He thought back, trying to remember where he was. This wasn't the first time in his life he had come to somewhere and had no idea how he got there - a brain tumor several years before had played games with his memory - but the tumor was long gone and his memory had improved.

Thinking of the tumor, he put his hand to his head, feeling for bandages. None, just his short hair. Gathering his courage, he opened his eyes again and sat up.

OK, I'm in a hospital room. X-Corp? he mumbled. Never heard of them, he said, rubbing his goatee as he always did when was nervous or thinking. Not surprising, I guess. He stood and walked over to one of the machines. Huh... Wonder what this is... It doesn't look like anything I've seen before.

At that moment, he noticed the door. Good, someone out there can probably tell me what is going on. Plane probably went down - though I don't remember taking off - and they took me to a hospital. Hospital... Amie! He reached for his cell phone to call his wife and tell her he was alive, but it was missing from it's normal position on his belt.

In fact, he wasn't wearing a belt, either. He opened the door and saw all the others, wearing hospital gowns. He looked down and realized that the reason he didn't have his phone.

He heard a man asked if they were in LA. Good question, he said, looking around for a nurse's station.

[drawingfreak]

Robert Harrison

Having followed suit with the waking up in agony and making his way to the door, Robert suddenly returned to reality (if this was indeed reality). He grabbed at his shaggy dark brown hair as he started to panic.

"Frak. Oh frak! Where are we? What the happened to the gorram plane? I...I need to call my mom!"

He leaned his back to the cold wall so as not to reveal his thin frame too much.

"And where is my swag?"

[ilovefire]

Jackson Ford

Jackson Ford groaned as he tried to get off of this bed, this damned cold steel bed that he found himself on. He lacked grace in his exit from the cursed flat, as he merely rolled off. It wasn't long before he stumbled to the door and opened it, looking at the six others, as they looked at the others and at him. He wasn't the best looker, but certainly he wasn't the worst either--Only a small pudge from to much pizza and red bull while working late nights or staying up programming, a slight squint from to much time spent starying at a screen, blonde hair kept in a buzz cut, with nonexistant facial hair unless he had forgotten to shave... had he forgotten to shave? He reached up to feel his jaw, realized he had--five o'lock shadow, yep. He then reached that hand up to his forhead to rub it, because he found himself with a headache. He reached for the pocket where he usually kept his cellphone, and realized it wasn't there--oh, a hospital gown. Well, that was a kick in the pants, he thought. No way to call his sister or his pen pal. Or his boss, for that matter. Groaning under his breath, he stated the first thing that came to his mind.

"What the hell happened?"

[The_New_Guy]

The "nursing station" (for lack of a better term) actually did not resembling a nursing station at all. It was a room, large enough to accommodate everyone (though not much larger than just enough) and rather non-descript. It lacked the monitors and readouts of the private rooms, but the decor was otherwise the same - slightly off-white walls and a rather clean, hospital like feel to the room.

"I remember boarding the plane...." said the young man as he screwed up his face in a moment of intense concentration, before shaking his head "...and that's it. You hon?"

The young woman shook her head, hiding herself a little more behind the door after seeing the five other male faces in the room. "Nothing." she said meekly "I... I think I'll wait in my room for now - it's nothing personal, just these go-"

She was interrupted by a voice, a rather soothing (if somewhat rushed) one, over an invisible loudspeaker. "Just a moment... we'll send someone down in just a moment."

It was just a moment before another doorway opened and a thirty-something, bespectacled brunette wearing a lab-coat entered the room. She smiled at the seven figures each hiding (more or less) behind their doors. "Someone will be around with your personal effects shortly - I know those gowns can be a pain. There's a sitting room in the room beyond this one when you are ready -you don't have to sit and wait of course, but we have some questions, and I'd imagine you do too. Hopefully we can work together and get them answered." She paused, a bit of frazzle showing from behind her rather well-practiced and pleasant demeanor. "We're sorry not to have someone here to greet you right away - but it seems everyone awoke at the same time, and five hours ahead of schedule no less."

True to the lab-coat wearing woman's word, another man (dressed in a lab-coat) arrived about two minutes later with bundles of clothing - specifically, what you were wearing when you boarded the plane. You could tell it'd been recently laundered - it still bore the sickly sweet smell of fabric softener - but there was little else with it. No wallets, cell-phones, pieces of loose change or receipts from the awful restaurant in the airport to be found. Just clothing.

[Kesnit]

Eric McMahon

Eric gave a small sigh of relief as he put on his well-worn jeans and rugby jersey. He debated leaving his hiking boots and socks off, but decided it would be best to put them on, not knowing if he would have to walk any distance after the upcoming "chat."

He still wished he could call his wife, but figured he would have a chance later. With a sigh and a wry grin, he walked into the sitting room.

[Green Bean]

Nathan James

Nathan quickly dressed in his business suit and walked into the sitting room. He was glad to be out of the embarrassing hospital gowns, but he still needed the rest of his possessions back, especially his luggage. Of course, knowing exactly why he was here and why no one seemed to remember what happened would be great too.

[ilovefire]

Jackson Ford

Jackson sighed as he ducked back into his room to dress. Khaki cargo pants, old tennis shoes, a T-shirt with the phrase "There's 10 kinds of people in this world: Those that understand binary and those that don't" embroidered on it, and a simple baseball cap. He started walking sitting room, digging through his many pockets. Cellphone: Nope. PDA: Not there. MP3 Player: Not there. None of his electronics were in his pockets. He shook his head, sighing sadly as he sat down.

[ChronicLunacy]

Daniel Horton

Daniel retreated back into his room to fight his way into the khakis and navy blue polo shirt he'd worn onto the plane. It wasn't a small accomplishment considering the aches and pains that continued to linger. When he returned to the ventured into the sitting room he was feeling a lot better, save for the fact that all of his valuables were missing. He put his hands in his pockets, then removed them a few times as he tried to get a grip on the situation, but nothing was making sense to him at all. The lights still hurt his eyes a bit, his whole body ached, and there had to be something wrong with his head or his memory because he had no idea how he'd gotten to where he was. He was worried about Jessica and his two daughters. Had they heard about the plane? Did they know if he was okay?

"Excuse me, uh...Miss, but where is my phone, my wallet? I need to call my wife- ah, ex-wife and let her know that I'm okay. I don't even know how long I've been here. Jessie's a worrier and if she thinks something's happened..." he trailed off in a pleading tone. He still didn't feel like a prisoner, but if they didn't return his things it was a step in the wrong direction. He was already scared and verging on panicked, but anger was only a short skip away on his already fragile emotional scale.

[drawingfreak]

Robert Harrison

Robert was relieved to see his "Jesus Saves...and Takes Half Damage" shirt intact. He couldn't help but giggle a little at it as he did every time he came upon it, only this time there was the pain from...whatever it was that happened, that brought him back to the present.

He sat in the waiting room, his hands fidgeting. Waiting without something to do was never his strong suit. He craved for his Nintendo DS now more than ever. His hands needed something to do. Robert curled up in his chair, examining his surroundings.

[The_New_Guy]

By the time everyone had dressed and made their way to the sitting room, the 'welcome back to the world of the waking' lady had already taken a seat at a small desk near the centre of the room. Like every other room you had been in so far, this room had a bland, hospital-like feel to it. Like the central room you just left its walls were mostly unadorned, but there were a few monitors that were, for the moment, blank. And upon the greeting lady's desk sat a small computer terminal.

"Come in, come in. Sit down. Get comfortable. This may take a little while..." she said, typing while she spoke. "...actually, it will take a little while. First off - an introduction is in order. I am Doctor Natasha Westford, a junior research associate here at X-Corp. I want to stress that you are not a prisoner, nor are you being held here against your will. You may leave at any time you please. But, in the end, you will probably want our help."

Hearing Daniel's question about his missing gear, Natasha took a deep breath and let out a small sigh, as if she had expected this kind of trouble from the start, but maybe didn't want to be answering that question so quickly. "Your ex-wife, Mr. Horton...." she paused, and struggled with her words for a moment. "...it's a little more complicated then you imagine. There is, unfortunately, no easy way to prepare you for this, so I may as well be blunt. You - all of you - have been in a coma-like state for the past two years at this facility. It is now the spring of 2010."

[Kesnit]

Eric felt his stomach hit his feet. 2010, he muttered. 2010. I've been asleep for over two years and it is 2010.

2010. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get that phrase out of his mind.

[Green Bean]

Nathan James

Nathan's jaw dropped.

"Two and a half years? What exactly happened on that flight?"

[ChronicLunacy]

Daniel Horton

Two and a half years...

It hit Daniel like a freight train, repeating over and over again in his mind until it almost outdid the physical pain he was still trying to get over. He didn't hear anything the others said, just that simple phrase. "Two years..." he repeated slowly, his eyes out of focus, and made to sit down on the nearest solid object: a coffee table. "Oh my god, Jessie must think...and my kids...two years...all my job interviews...I..." he gripped the edge of the table, his head hanging towards his knees. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Daniel held his face in his hands, thinking about the worst possible outcomes of two years out of the world. Had Jessie met someone after he'd disappeared, remarried? Was she even alive? How were his kids? God, Mary was ten now? Jane was six? How much had he missed? Would he be able to get back in the job market now that two years had passed by, new technologies and strategies had come out, college kids snapping up the new jobs?

Daniel stood up. "No, before I answer any questions you have to let me call my wife and talk to my kids. After that I'll let you poke me with sticks if you want, but first I'm calling my wife." he said, walking towards any door that didn't lead back where he'd come from. "Now where's the phone?"

[The_New_Guy]

Natasha smiled sympathetically at Nathan, but shook her head. "Quite frankly, I don't know - I don't rate the security clearance to know. There will be an NSA agent arriving shortly to discuss such matters."

Turning to Daniel, she continued speaking in sympathetic yet firm tones. "As I said, Mr. Horton, it is slightly more complex than that." She paused, taking time to consider her words before continuing. "But believe me when I say that you will want to hear what we have to say - well, what the NSA agent has to say anyways, before you attempt to call your family. The truth be told I'm just here to talk to you until he arrives. He was supposed to be here when you woke up - but as I mentioned you are about five hours too earl-"

The doctor was interrupted by what felt, for a moment at least, a small explosion. It took a second to realize that the sound was actually a human voice - a human voice capable of shaking the walls. One that had just screamed 'baby'.

"What was that?" asked the wedding dress woman quickly, her eyes darting frantically to the walls that moments, ago, had vibrated with raw acoustic force.

The doctor replied with something of a concerned look herself, although she lacked any sign of panic. "One of the others - there were about three hundred passengers on that plane. Most likely one that didn't react well to the news."

"Pretty loud..." replied the wedding dress woman's companion, not really asking a question but implying one anyways.

"A trick of acoustics most likely. This place was designed to monitor our patients, and the internal acoustics were never really considered. In any case, Mr. Horton, please try to make yourself comfortable and relax. I know it's not ideal, but it will be better for you, and for your family, if we do this the proper way."

"And we can begin now..." came a new voice from behind a quickly opening, then quickly closing door. It belonged to a suited young man - looking something in between a federal agent and one of the Men in Black from the movies. "...Special Agent Arthur Andrews, NSA. Sorry I'm late, but it's four in the morning dammit! You told us nothing until eight for sure."

"Well, we were wrong - their behavior didn't match our predictive models. But since when have they ever..."

"Yes, yes - all terribly strange. I know. I've read the reports. Anyways, gentlemen..." Andrews paused, his frantic energy subsiding for a moment or two "...and lady. Let me see here..." He stopped, sat down and pulled out a large pad of paper. "Horton, James, Harrison, McMahon, Ford, Walsh and Reynolds..." he said, pointing to each of the 'names 'in turn (pointing to the young man as he said Walsh, and the young woman as he said Reynolds) "...ewww. Reynolds and Walsh are Canadian nationals. That's going to be fun for diplomats. And speaking of diplomats... Mr. James. Interesting as well. Okay - let's begin."

He paused, again, allowing his natural energy to subside for a moment. "Let's see - where to start. You are all dead. Not literally, of course - this is the U.S., not heaven by anyones definition. In fact, this is Maryland - if you're wondering, or if it makes a difference. However, three months after Flight 265 went missing the government declared the plane missing and presumed lost with all aboard. A bad presumption I'm afraid, but what can you do? It's the government."

"Which is why, Mr. Horton, we want you to delay talking to your ex-wife and daughters. It may be somewhat... traumatic."


"Er... yes. When you were discovered some three months after being declared dead, the choice was made to leave you as officially deceased, until your status could be... decided upon. A choice which not everyone involved in the event agreed with, but again - government. So yes, Mr. Horton, calling your ex-wife at this point would be a mistake. She would likely not believe you, for one thing. We do, however, have protocols that have been activated, and your family will know soon."

Another breath. "Now, we have a few questions for you, before we begin to process you back into the 'world of the living' for lack of a better term. Trust me - bringing people back to life is harder then standing in front of a cave and shouting 'come out Lazarus'. A lot harder. But onto the questions. Namely - Flight 265 - what happened?"


[OOC]
Sorry to be so verbose, but I want to keep the plot moving.

[Kesnit]

Eric McMahon

You're asking us what happened? Don't you know? Doesn't the NSA know everything that goes on? His last question came out rather sarcasticly. What what do you mean we were found three months after the plane disappeared? Where were we found? How were we found?

[Green Bean]

Nathan James

To say the least, Nathan was shocked at the news that he was officially dead. But at the same time, it was almost freeing. It meant the end of his previous...situation at his old job. He now had a chance to start over. Of course, he felt badly for what his parents and his close friends went through, but now he could start over, avoid his previous mistakes. Surely those men would have given up on him by now...

Nathan focused back on the present.

"I'm sorry, Agent Andrews, but I can't tell you about the flight. I don't remember anything past the gate, and I gather the rest of the passengers don't either."

[ilovefire]

Jackson Ford

"What happened? Damned if I can remember. I got on the plane, started to get some sleep, and next thing I know I wake up on one of those damned beds," Jackson said calmly, though his thoughts were going a hundred miles an hour and moving nowhere. Dead? Legally dead? But, his sister. His penpal. His boss and co-workers. All of them. "Legally dead..." He muttered quietly to himself, barely audiable. He seemed to sink deeper into the chair he was in.

[ChronicLunacy]

Daniel Horton

"Well aren't you just Mr. Sensitivity. Look, *sshole, none of us know what the hell is going on! We thought you were coming in here to explain! Despite what you may think, my family will very much want to know that I'm ALIVE. If I were them, I'd be pissed off that no one told me my husband or father or son or brother didn't die in a plane crash!" Daniel said, feeling his face flush with anger and his hands curl into fists. "What the hell is wrong with you people anyway? Just who do you think you are lying to people like that? What's more traumatic?! Knowing the people you love are in a coma with the hope of coming out of it or f*cking toe-tagged?! Jesus tapdancing Christ, you're all braindead!" he yelled, punctuating his last word with a punch to the wall. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. This is the government we're talking about."

He turned away from the wall he'd just punched and let out a slow breath, trying to calm himself. He'd had anger issues since he was little and this wasn't exactly a situation where he could be expected to remain calm. Still, he knew flying into a rage wasn't going to do him any good, no matter how incompetent these morons were or all the things he needed to tell his family. He closed his eyes, trying to keep it cool, detached...just answer their questions and go on your way, the easier he made it on them the faster they could finish. "Look, I'm sorry, just...it's not every day you find out you've missed two years of your daughters' childhood." he sighed, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Can we just get this overwith?"

[drawingfreak]

Robert Harrison

Robert sat in his chair dazed. Two and a half years? In a coma?
This was all a shock. He remained in his chair, the burden of so much time lost keeping him momentarily mute.

[The_New_Guy]

The wall shattered.

Well, not the wall. And not really shattered. But the drywall nearly exploded on contact, leaving a gaping hole into inky blackness for about two feet on either side of Daniel's fist. Andrews merely arched an eyebrow. "He the one that broke someone's hand during the reflex tests?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Ah. Well then, Mr. Horton - your reputation for violence precedes you. But - well, first let me apologize to you if you think we are handling this poorly. However, we are treading new ground here, so you'll have to forgive us a few missteps. You weren't exactly alive when we found you. But I guess I should fill you in with what we know before you decide to turn your rather impressive strength on me."

He paused, flipped through a few pages of his notepad, and began. "November 6, 2007. Flight 265 from Boston to Los Angeles departs without incident from Logan. The flight is uneventful, until somewhere over Montana it vanishes. Completely. No transponder. No radar. We even have people on the ground who report watching it vanish into a cloudless sky - although quite frankly those claims are somewhat spurious as it was overcast in most of Montana that day. Reaction from the government is what you'd expect - widespread panic that certain religious entities are about to strike at us again. Granted, what they'd hit in Montana I haven't the foggiest - mountains maybe?"

"Anyways - the government reaction is as follows. President and Vice-President are transported under operation 'Remember' to various secure locations. Fighter covered is provided for all major cities and military installations. Fighter Squadrons from Malmstrom scramble with orders to seek and destroy 265."

'But 265 is never found. No radar nor visual contact is made, nor is anything received from its transponder. There's no debris. There's nothing to suggest 265 even existed. After 3 months of searching the FAA provides some made up story about a catastrophic storms that disintegrated the airplane and all aboard, and the case is declared closed. Meanwhile certain elements within certain government agencies - including the NSA - continue to seek answers."

"Three months after that 265 is discovered at a remote military airport in Alaska, hidden in a hanger no one remembered existing. There's a couple notable things here - the runway was not long enough for 265 to land, nor did 265 possess enough fuel to make the trip. For that matter, 265 had spent approximately the amount of fuel need to reach where it vanished over Montana. But hey, by now it's clear that we've crossed a line in weirdness."

"What really gets government officials when they arrive, is the passengers. All are lying there, as if not a day had passed. What's worse - they're all dead. No heartbeat. Not breath. Dead. 300 body bags are ordered. Then someone realizes that maybe the passengers are not dead. After all - they are all maintaining a body temperature of exactly 99.4 degrees Fahrenheit. Which is tough for dead people to do."

"We load all the bodies - for lack of a better term - up into a number of military, long-haul aircraft and transport them to Bethesda for monitoring. Eventually we move them here - to X-Corp, a government funded research company - to do more focused research into their condition. We don't really know what's going on, but we do know some things - they don't breathe, their hearts don't beat, their EEG's are flat lines, and they are somehow still alive. Or dead. There's also freaky and unusual things happening to the body chemistry, and you all seem to possess an odd electro-magnetic field - it's not going to blow up electronics, but it does cause a deflection on the guass meter. But there's the point of debate right there and why we didn't notify families. It wasn't a choice between toe-tag and coma, it was between toe-tag and whatever the hell you were."

"Anyways, X-Corp continues to study, and observe. And learn. Four days ago your brain comes back online. EEG readings are suddenly normal for a coma patient. Three days ago your heart begins to beat, your lungs to breathe. The last two days your brain activity has been ramping up, which brings us to the here and now."

"Here you are. A medical mystery. Something that belongs on an episode of the 'X-Files'. I know this is a bit hard to accept. Hell - I'd probably be upset about it all too. But we're not the big bad NSA. We're not looking to ruin your life or control you or anything of that sort. We're just trying to work through this. And we were looking for your help."

"You called the NSA all-knowing, Mr. McMahon. We're not. But we'd like to be. That's what we do. That's why I'm here talking to you. Because we want to puzzle out what happened to you, so that it doesn't happen again. We're asking for your help because, really, we know nothing but what i just told you. Well - maybe a little more detail than that, but nothing more of note."

"If you really know nothing then we'll process you out shortly. Obviously you're pretty much out of luck. No money - your bank accounts and visa cards were closed and canceled upon your death. Your cellphones will work to call 911, but nothing else - they were deactivated as well. We will provide each of you with a Visa Card, a government ID and a furnished apartment - you will have to learn to enjoy the company of those you are with right now though - they will be staying in the same suite as you until more normalized accommodations can be arranged."

"You will also be able to call your family, if you wish. We advise against it however - it will be better for all involved to allow us to do the communicating right now, and bring them to you."

"Now that all the cards are on the table - one last time, I will ask you, do you remember anything - anything at all from the flight?"

[ChronicLunacy]

Daniel Horton

Well, this day had officially reached an eleven on the weird sh*t-o-meter. Daniel hadn't even noticed the hole in the wall until the others began staring at him. The two government agents, on the other hand, seemed to take it all in stride, just another day at the office. Daniel looked from the NSA Agent, to the Doc, to the others, and then to the hole in the wall about four or five times in rapid-fire motion before looking down at his own hands in shock. He'd punched holes in walls before when his temper got the better of him, but never in a single blow...and the wall had just crumpled like tissue paper. He had hardly felt it give.

Daniel sat down on the coffee table in the middle of the room again, his eyes wide as Andrews went into an explanation of the details. He listened silently until the agent had finished.

"Now that all the cards are on the table - one last time, I will ask you, do you remember anything - anything at all from the flight?"

In response, Daniel could only shake his head dumbly. He could remember nothing, nothing but cold darkness and then the room. Just what the hell had happened to them? Were they abducted by aliens or something? What was going on with him? Had he really broken someone's hand by accident before he'd woken up?

...Was he still the same person he'd been when he'd gotten on that plane?

[Green Bean]

Nathan James

Nathan jumped as the man's fist hit the wall, but his surprise turned to shock and confusion at the effect it had on the wall. However, he turned his attention away from the gaping hole in the wall to listen to the agent describe what exactly went on.

"I'm sorry, agent, but I've told you all I can remember."

Nathan glanced for a moment at the drywall, or what was left of it. Keeping his tone almost pleasant, if a little ragged, he continued.

"But I don't think that you're telling us everything. That isn't normal, but you seem totally fine with it. I don't know, maybe you just have a theory or something, but I'd still like to hear it."

[Kesnit]

Eric jumped up at the crash. Seeing the wall, he caught himself whispering That isn't possible. How did he do that?

When Daniel sat down, Eric tried to quietly move his chair away from the man. This is too weird... he muttered.

Turning back to the agent, Eric said All I remember is darkness. Some weird flashes in my peripherial vision, but nothing I can describe. Then something else the agent said caught his attention. What do you mean we have an electro-magnetic field? And what other "little details" did you neglect to tell us?

[drawingfreak]

Robert Harrison

Robert was still stuck in his own thoughts to respond to the new decoration that Daniel was able to provide.

"This...this can't be happening. I've been Punk'd, right? Right? Ashton Kutcher is about to pop out of that door, right? Oh frak me."

His eyes go wide as the entire situation falls upon him.

[The_New_Guy]

Agent Andrews shook his head at Robert's question. "I'm afraid not. This is the real thing Mr. Harrison - as bizarre as it seems." To Nathan: "There are a number of bizarre things about what Mr. Horton just did - for instance, after two and a half years you guys shouldn't be able to stand, much less punch a hole in the wall due to muscular atrophy. But punch a hole in drywall? Mr. Horton proved very early on in his testing that he was a strong man. Add to that a bit of rage and a lucky shot hitting a weak-spot in the drywall. It's not normal, but it's certainly not extraordinary."

"I can fill in some of those details if you'd like Mr. McMahon..." added Natasha as Agent Andrews wound down "...but there mostly things that are insignificant to you. Details about the changes to your body chemistry. Research into why everyone's core body temperature - all 300 of you - seems to be fixed at 99.7 Fahrenheit. The EM field - well, I'm a biologist, not a physicist, so I don't understand much of that they say, but I believe the report suggested exposure to a high power EMP may have imparted a mild EM field on your body - it's very faint, mind you, just barely there."

"There's a huge glut of data - two years of medical research yields and enormous amount of paperwork. I've read most it under, understood less than half of it, and trust me - you've got the important details. Anything else requires a PhD in Biochemistry to understand - and even then most of those guys are baffled. Any more questions"

[ilovefire]

Jackson Ford

Jackson thought about this. He had a background in medicine, maybe he could figure something out from what he knew... and thinking about how his body could have changed like this--99.7 degree internal temp? Having an electromagnetic field? "I'd like those details, Doctor Natasha. I may not have a PhD in Biochemistry, but I've got a Masters in it, so maybe I'll understand enough to know just how screwed up we've become."

((Medicine: (1d20+5)[13](18)))
((Knowlege (Physical Sciences): (1d20+5)[13](18)))

[Green Bean]

Nathan James

Nathan decided to accept the explanation for now. Regardless of whether or not he believed it, he was more or less at the government agent's mercy right now; he held the keys to his future.

"Just one more thing, agent. How isolated is this apartment going to be? I've apparently been out of it for two years, and I'd like to find out what's changed. Will we have access to newspapers, Internet, that sort of thing?"