Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20160108000841/@comment-25828117-20160110011106

Meanwhile on Earth...

"And let me play among the stars..." The radio started to sing when the digits on the early model wooden-case digital clock hit 6:30.

"Waking up with Nat King Cole, how nice." John Brody thought as his dark green eyes flickered open.

Sadly, he didn't have much time to enjoy the calm, soothing music because bread had to be won today! Brody always was a morning lark; When he woke up he was always one-hundred percent present as if he had enjoyed the perfect amount of sleep and ready to go, unlike his wife who was still lying face 'somewhat' down in her soft polyester stuffed pillow, her brow furrowing when she heard the radio.

"hmmm, a few more minutes..." She moaned with a dry voice. not yet ready to let go of her dreams.

Brody smirked and replied by pressing the snooze button and leaning over to kiss her forehead which conjured a content smile on the lady’s face. She didn't even need to open her eyes and watch her handsome husband in the eyes to appreciate the little things he did for her.

"I'll make breakfast." He whispered in her soft round ears before quickly standing up and making his way towards the bathroom to shave and put on his uniform.

-

Grace walked into the kitchen wearing a pink dressing gown. She rubbed some sleep out of her eyes whilst yawning widely before landing her buttocks on a chair at the breakfast table. Her blonde hair still uncombed and wild. She was either still too tired or too forgetful to make herself up, but it was probably the smell of breakfast that caused her to be drawn away from her bed in the first place.

Her nose perked up when the smell of a much needed cup of ol' Joe found its way to her nostrils. John stood over the cerulean top chrome border table and had already lain out a worthy american breakfast. To complete the picture, of course he stood there in his well-ironed uniform's light blue shirt with matching navy blue tie pinned to his lower chest, pouring coffee in her cup whilst he held today's papers under his other arm.

"Mornin'" He smiled at her.

She couldn't help but return the beam with a more sheepish tint.

"Beacon and eggs, fresh squeezed orange juice and white bread." John summed up when he went to put the pot back into the coffee machine.

"Darling, you're spoiling me... I feel so guilty." Grace said with a twinkle.

"Oh? But I like cooking for you and Cheryl!" John said trying to reassure her that it was fine for him to be so perfectly caring. After which he also went to sit down across from her and opened the morning papers.

Grace in the meantime decided it was time for Cheryl (their six year old daughter) to come join breakfast and called out to her, a minute later a cute little girl in pink fluffy unicorn pajamas joined the table.

"Mornin' sweetheart" John said, lowering his newspaper to wink lovingly at his little angel.

"Morning, daddy." She smiled showing a row of small milky gnashers of which some were already missing before helping herself to the strawberry jam and a butter knife.

"Ugh, honey. You know you need to eat something more sturdy then that... Otherwise you'll get the shakes in school." Grace said with a bit of motherly sympathy, causing the young girl to grumble a bit. She really wanted that jam.

"Mother's right, sweetheart."

"B-but I did all my homework..." She said, hoping to bargain for her right to eat the sweet fruity condiment.

"I can already write seven letters!" Cheryl boasted with pride.

Grace had to laugh at just how quaint that was. Looking back at John.

"It's true... Our little girl neatly wrote her first letters yesterday, didn't you honey?"

John placed the newspaper aside and feigned his dumbfound amazement.

"No way... Really?!"

Cheryl determinedly nodded her head

"Uh-huh! Mommy helped me with two letters but the rest was all me!"

"Wow! That's my girl! You're going to become the next Einstein for sure!" He said rather briefly after which he stood up to kiss her on the head and then went to get his coat.

"Wait, you're going already?" Grace said when she realized he was going for the door.

John turned back with an innocent look on his face.

"Ya? I told you I had to go early yesterday, remember?"

"Oh, well erm don't forget to bring a loaf of bread home from the grocer’s on your way home!" Grace quickly added whilst giving Cheryl a funny look when she noticed the girl was sneakily spreading jam on her toast.

"I won't!"

"Have a nice day honey!"

"You to!"

-

It was still in the early hours of Cape Canaveral, a dark yet purple hue-ish sky winter sky gradually turned bluer and brighter as the minutes passed by. Winter in Florida wasn't really cold so John could leisurely ride to work with his window open. He liked the fresh air rushing by more than listening to the trite you’d have on the radio and it also meant he didn't have to lower it when he arrived at his work's checkpoint: The Nixon Space Center of the USSA, a large military complex on a small Atlantic ocean peninsula of the Gulf Commonwealth. Famous for launches the majority of the United States’ space probes, shuttles and satellites among other things. Recently there had been a lot of launches. John always had to comfort Cheryl and Grace with little white lies whenever they started asking questions, especially when they weren’t televised. He knew better, obviously.

When he turned to cross the bridge that would lead him to the entrance of the complex the eastern morning sun shined right in his eyes. His car didn't have visors because of the round top glass dome model Chrysler he had. Instead he put on the tortoiseshell sunglasses he always had lying in his glove compartment.

You are approaching a Federal United States Military Complex be advised that trespassers will be apprehended and held accountable under Federal Law. A sign warned a few meters ahead of the actual checkpoint. This bridge was the only way in and out of the peninsula. John knew there was another checkpoint beyond this one but that one was only for astronauts and marines who boarded spacecraft on the launch platform. This checkpoint was just a grey concrete block with a few windows and a stars and stripes flag lonely standing on top, "in case you were confused as to whom it belonged to". two soldiers stood on either side of the two-way road, holding laser rifles, and one officer stood in the booth.

John slowly cruised his small family car forward so his driver's side window met with the checkpoint's.

"Morning, Bill." John said, greeting the officer on duty. This was such a routine he didn't even put off his sunglasses.

The man smiled back "Mornin' John. You know how it is, Docume-"

"Documentation and pass. Yeah yeah!" John finished giving Bill whatever he required.

A quick check of about ten seconds later Bill returned the documents.

"Everything appears to be in order, John. As usual."

"Thanks, Bill. Hey, Remind me to buy you a donut later!"

"Hah" The customs officer snorted. "I will. Like your tie by the way! You know my wife-"

"Yeah. Have a great day, Bill!" John smiled, and drove off before the man could finish his story.

The peninsula had mostly been turned into flat concrete. A huge parking lot stood in front of a large building with few windows. Sort of a vertical bunker almost. Supposed to be "Nuke-proof" if Time Magazine was to be believed. John quickly found his parking space and grabbed whatever was needed to get to work, after which he hurried to the offices.

-

Another security check and an elevator ride later John found himself on the 16th floor where he was supposed to meet with Aidell Walker, head of USSA’s Scientific Division. The floor was made up of neatly placed office pods where women typed away on typewriters and men on RobCo model computers. Small personal family memorabilia pinned and placed on virtually everyone’s desk along with some fake plastic form of vegetation. Aidell had forbidden real plants on his floor because of his allergies or something. John wasn’t too sure what that meant, but he didn’t really care. After all, he was a military man, he didn’t work on this floor. After walking passed some aisles Brody realized he didn’t exactly know where Aidell’s office was. It all looked a bit like a maze and the more he stood still to check his surroundings the more he felt the female personnel ogling him, as if he were a gazelle that had just wandered into a lion’s den. He didn’t even need to turn and look, he just heard fingers stop ticking away on the typewriters and hushed voices giggle and whisper behind him. John Brody always was an alert man who could perfectly gauge his surroundings. A skill that suited perfectly with his job.

"Mr. Brody?" A voice arrived from the left aisle along with a smaller rather chubby man whom had taken the liberty of already having his hand stretched out to shake John’s.

Brody obliged when the man finally caught up.

"Aidell Walker. You were supposed to meet with me…" The chief of staff said somewhat out of breath, even though he had at most walked ten meters from his desk to the middle of the work floor here.

"That is correct. John Brody; Space Marine Program" John said, shaking Aidell’s hand firmly.

Aidell snickered somewhat awkwardly

"Wow, euh… Tight handshake you’ve got there, pal. Heh… eum… Ah Yes. Follow me."

John simply smiled and followed the man through the office past the ogling female staff and into his office. After he had closed the door behind him he immediately took notice of the model spacecraft set up in a display case.

"Oh those." Aidell said when he noticed John’s temporary fascination. "Our newest models, they go into orbit or carry supplies to the…" Aidell paused "Sea of Tranquility Base."

"hmmhmm." John mused as he bent forward to take a closer look at the USS Quetzel.

"Scotch?" The still out of breath chief of staff asked like he always did, even though it was half past nine.

John quickly looked up and shook his head politely.

"No, sir... I don't drink." The man said, hands behind his back making it look like he stood 'at ease'.

"I can understand you don't drink this early..." Aidell commented followed with by an awkward laugh.

"But you surely you drink something in your downtime?"

John once again shook his head.

"No, sir."

"Oh you Space Marine types you, always so strict on yourselves..." Aidell grinned as seeing he had a true boyscout in his office here, and finished his small drink in one swing "We here at the science divisions don't really have to adhere to any strict diets. Well, my doctor did prescribe me these pills for my cholesterol... But that's besides the point."

"Yes, sir. Why have you called me to the offices?" John said, it became more obvious he wanted to get out of here.

"Right." Mr. Walker turned serious.

"You've been called here because of this."

The man whom had taken a seat behind his desk opened a drawer and tossed a few folders on the crocodile leather writing mat.

"Top-Secret business, you understand."

"I do, sir."

John picked up one of the folders and opened it up, in it there were enlarged black and white photographs that had been taken in space, on some points red circles had been drown.

"These pictures have been taken from one of our Space Telescope Satellites. Those red circles you see are foreign spacecraft."

"The reds?"

"Could be... We're not sure. It certainly isn't Russian. Might be Chinese."

"Interesting stuff, but why do you need me?"

"Well, you see those yellow lines drown from that circle." Aidell gestured with his fat wormy fingers.

John looked at the picture more closely.

"Yes. I see them."

"They showcase heat displacement of an engine."

"Huh?" John vocalized a bit confused, he wasn't stupid. He knew what it meant but he was flabbergasted at the notion that it was possible.

"You mean to say it traveled from Jupiter in a few seconds?"

Aidell remained silent for a few seconds to let it sink in.

"See why we called you?"

"It might not even be Chinese, though let's be honest those slant-eyed bastards always have something nasty up their long sleeves. But if it isn't then we have to assume it is... Extraterrestrial."

"How many people know about this?"

"Not many, the president and the general staff of the USSA and now... you, along with the men you'll be travelling with."

"men, sir"

"Yes, Captain Brody. You'll be on the next shuttle into space along with a staff of engineers and scientists. You will be stationed at the Sea which will serve as a research and recon base." The chipper Aidell Walker from a few minutes ago was now completely gone, now there was only the man in charge.

"But the conflict, sir." John said confused. He knew about the attempts of the Soviets and the Chinese to take over parts of the moon or at least establish their dominance in the final frontier (title drop!).

"You won't be any part of that fight, Captain. Space is big, you'll get to the moon safely."

At this point Mr. Walker thought that a glass of Scotch wasn't enough to ruin his internal organs and casually lit a good Cuban cigar, no doubt smuggled in from the southern coast.

"I probably don't have to tell you how big this is, John." Aidell said after blowing some smoke in the direction of the models.

"If our satellites could pick this up, chances are so have the reds'. No doubt they are also preparing to launch a space expedition of their very own as we speak. We cannot allow this one to fall into their hands, this is bigger than the moon. If the commies get a hold of that technology or worse manage to make first contact and convince them this could turn out to be the end of the world! So... Time is of the essence. You will leave for The Sea Of Tranquility Coming Thursday."

John nodded. Having fully understood his directive, the mission and the stakes.

"Understood, sir. Anything else?"

Aidell was clearly done with his speech. He once again laughed awkwardly, to the point that John realized that was probably just how the man laughed.

"No, Mr. Brody that would be all. Apart from of course your unbridled secrecy and discretion... Don't tell anyone, John."

John nodded and with nothing further to discuss walked out of the office leaving Aidell Walker to his unhealthy habits and paperwork.

-

"Hey, Bill. Here's that Donut I promised." John smiled as he slowed down by the checkpoint whilst holding up a pink box.

"D'oww John my friend you're killing me. My wife's been trying me to lose weight." The older officer smiled whilst taking a chocolate topped ring of deliciousness out of the box after which he carefully gave Brody's passport and documents back with the other hand.

"You know I was watching TV and this Cardio-"

"See you tomorrow, Bill!" John beamed up before driving off into the sunset.

Cape Canaveral by sunset was quite beautiful, the palm trees at the boardwalk close to the beaches. That fresh air, even though the biggest Kerosene factory was but a mile away. John looked at his watch before he drove into the small seashore town for a bit of shopping. John drove his car into a small ally around the back of the grocery store he always went to. It was owned by a nice man, Peter Bering. And his wife, though you'd barely see here these days; Bed stricken most of the time.

The bell above the door rang when John walked in, and Peter appeared from below the counter.

"Ah, John. What can I get you today?"

"Premium Caspian Oysters, Peter."

"With sour lemon?"

"No, with sweet cream"

Peter smiled. and scratched the back of his head. He looked around if the shop was empty and when he noticed Misses Cransberry in the back with the tinned apricots he beckoned to John.

"You know, I'm not sure we still have those. Perhaps in the back."

John followed Peter into the small dingy backroom of the shop and waited while Peter closed the steel door behind him. After which the two men went to a small office.

-

"Aliens?"

"Yes, that's what I'm telling you." John said, somewhat annoyed by Peter's cigarette smoke that had drifted his way because of the desk fan.

"Hah, wait until Father hears of this."

"Moscow needs to know, if they don't already." John urged Peter after he had just done a complete exposé of his appointed mission and the details.

"I understand, friend. Consider it done."

"Good." John said whilst standing up, he couldn't wait to get out of this poisonous sauna Peter called an office.

Peter however remained seat and lightly tapped on his chin with his thumb whilst pointing his cigarette away.

"There is something else." The sleeper agent said to the other one.

"What is it?"

"Follow me."

Not liking where this was going, John followed Peter to the garage where an old 2012 Pontiac Bravado was parked.

Peter walked around the car and waited by the trunk until John had joined him.

"We've got a pest problem." Peter sighed whilst opening the trunk.

John sighed when he was met by two terrified piercing blue eyes of a man who had been bound and a good thick slap of ductape plastered under his mouth, moaning and wincing as he finally saw some light again.

"It's Gregory." John stated.

"I knew there was something off about him."

Peter had already taken the liberty of screwing a silencer on his pistol and pointed it at Gregory's forehead.

"Scream or yell and you're dead." He threatened.

"Do you understand?"

Gregory moaned from under his restrictions.

"Do you understand?!" Peter raised his voice.

Causing the man in the trunk to quickly nod and squirm.

"Good."

"John, be a dear would you? And place Gregory here on that plastic chair there."

John did as he told by his colleague and carried the man who'm apparently was only wearing a shirt and underpants into the chair.

"Gregory Millers. He used to work in the Barracks." John stated more clearly.

"I figured him for a DIA spook. But was unable to deal with him without blowing my cover."

"Well, good luck you've got me around eh?" Peter smiled to Brody whilst keeping the 10mm pistol trained at the agent's face whom smelled of urine and sweat.

"How long has he been in there now?"

"Three days..." Peter said somewhat nonchalantly after which he leaned in and violently tugged the ductape from Gregory's mouth which left clear marks in a rectangular shape around the corners.

The DIA informant coughed and tried to breath in heavily.

"Do you work for the DIA?" Peter asked

The man simply nodded violently with his head hanging low.

"Please, I'm just an informant. I'm not an agent. The agency doesn't know anything yet! I'll remain silent! I swear, on my mother's grave, sir! I swear!" The distressed young man nearly vomited in between breaths and words.

"Good." Peter sighed, lowering his gun.

Gregory looked at John from between his greasy hairs that had been glued stuck to his forehead for three days now.

"You- you're wife... How can you live like this... A-and your daughter... C-cheryl. What if they find out?"

John didn't hesitate before he snatched the pistol from Peter's lowered hand and shot Gregory right between the eyes. Causing the wheezing and heavy breathing to be abruptly stopped and the chair to rock slightly backwards for a second before firmly landing back on its front legs.

"Jesus shit, dude!" Peter complained.

John sighed.

"We were going to kill him anyways."

"Yeah but not like... Shoot him in the face."

"Well, it's done now." John gave Peter his gun back.

"Make the body disappear. I have to get home."

"I'll contact Moscow then." Peter called after John whilst looking at the lifeless body of the young adult in his pants.

"Right. I'm also taking a loaf of bread with me, alright?"

Peter grinned and holstered his pistol.

"Sure... Sure, John. Take whatever."

-

"Hey honey!" Grace said wrapping her arms around her handsome husband and kissing him swiftly but lovingly.

"How's was my true American hero's day at work?" She smiled, her lips now cherry red because of lipstick and her cheeks now rosy because of a bit of blush.

"Dandy" John smiled presenting her the loaf of bread brought from the grocers'.

"Oh thank you, honey! I was thinking of making bread pudding for dessert."

"Sounds great, darling!"

It didn't take long before Cheryl crept up on them and mingled in between their long legs. Prompting John to bend down and lift the cute button of a daughter into his arms

"Heeeeey, sweatheart!" He cuddled her until he noticed that she had something in her hand. A piece of paper.

"Daddy look! It's a drawing I made!"

John took the piece of paper from her tiny fingers and looked at it. It was a crayon drawing of him in a spacesuit planting an american flag in the moon.

"Woooow! Is that me?" John asked his daughter so she could bask in her pride.

"Uh-huh! Today we had to draw what our parents do for work. And Mommy once said to me you're a spaceman!"

"Sure am, sweetheart... Sure am."

John's smile faded a bit when he looked at Grace again.

"Listen... I need to tell you something."