Torn Fabric...


Rambures Castle - 1423

“Spy! Spy in the corridor!” shouted Jacques as he ran along the hallway of the castle. Ahead, Jacques kept catching glances of the intruder. As he rounded the corner and saw a chamber door shut, Jacques felt triumphant as he drew his rapier and burst into the room.

He was shocked to see the intruder had accessed a secret escape tunnel, known only to the lord, the lady, and very few hand-picked retainers. The guard ran forward into the stairwell and shut the panel to plunge the stairwell into utter darkness. Jacques batted the cobwebs that tickled his face aside as he warily pursued the spy.

Jacques entered the cellar and stopped. He strained to hear the other man in the darkness. He warned, “There is no place for you to run. The tunnel was gated years ago, and the stairs behind me are the only exit. It would be best to give up. Do not test my blade.”

Jacques heard a soft rustle not far to his left. As he turned to challenge the spy, he heard a soft click before being blinded by an intense white light. The light was brighter than any torch, and he cursed. He then heard a metallic "clack" and a whisper. Jacques felt searing pain as something akin to a hammer blow struck his throat. He tasted copper, and felt a warm stickiness pour down his chest.

His numbing fingers dropped his rapier, and he toppled backwards. Jacques turned his head, gurgling at the intense pain, as the intruder moved next to him. The spy shifted a metal shaft, the source of the light, to hold within his armpit. The guard's shocked eyes traveled down to another object gripped in the intruder's hand. It appeared to be a hollow cylinder with a wisp of smoke wafting out of the end.

The man hid the device, and pulled a wallet from within the peasant smock he wore. The man began scribbling on strange white parchment within the wallet. The spy lifted his eyes to Jacques, before looking at some manner of leather bracelet with a metal adornment affixed to it. The intruder spoke English to Jacques saying, “I’m sorry about all this, but I have a schedule to keep”, as Jacques’s uncomprehending eyes closed.

The man sighed, and hid the notebook next to the silenced Walther PPK. He shifted his flashlight back into his hand. He moved down the tunnel he’d received information of during his history briefing. He unlocked the gate with a key that had been thoughtfully “borrowed” from a museum, and issued to him prior to “the jump”. The spy continued down the tunnel, while checking his wrist watch. While hurrying to the jump-off, he planned a return trip earlier than his previous jump, avoiding the massive paradox of running into himself, and saving the guard from becoming a corpse.

Atlantic Ocean – April 15th, 1912

Mr. Thomas Andrews sat in the first class smoking room. He was so engrossed with inner turmoil, that he barely took notice of the shouting outside on the deck of the RMS Titanic. He was oblivious to sporadic gunfire, screams of women and children as they were torn away from husbands and fathers, and even people shoving others over the rail and into the freezing water in a frantic effort to wrest the few last spots on departing life rafts. He took a deep sip from the finest brandy, as his mind reviewed the ship schematics and the event that would lead to the liner's plunge under the waves.

He swallowed the brandy, and set the glass on the arm of his chair. Thomas’s eyes followed the progress of the glass as it slid off due to the ever increasing list of the ship. He was startled from his stupor as the glass tumbled, and broke on the deck. He looked up, noted the chaos, and stood. He moved over to the fireplace, leaned a hand against the wall, and muttered, “My God, how could this happen?” Thomas heard a man’s voice inquire, “Mr. Andrews?”

He turned, and his look of hopelessness slowly resolved into confusion. He did not know the man, and yet couldn’t seem to escape his presence since stepping aboard the Titanic. Thomas had seen the stranger constantly. He had alerted the crew in an attempt to identify the man, but he was an enigma to all. Yet, here he now stood, and at the oddest of times for conversation. Thomas frowned and said, “If you are here to tell me to abandon ship, I tell you the same thing I told the stewards. To hell with you sir!”

The man smiled politely, and responded, “I am not asking you to abandon the Titanic. I know you would just assume plunge with her.” Thomas nodded in convicted agreement. The man continued, “I actually wanted to pass what little time we have left by showing you a design flaw.” Thomas sputtered incredulity, “Flaw? Of course there’s a flaw! She’s sinking is she not?” The man nodded and said, “She’s not designed to contend with striking icebergs, but I wished to show you a flaw YOU failed to notice.”

Thomas gaped at the man before calm retook him. He smoothed his evening attire and said, “A flaw I missed? Impossible sir! Lead on, and we shall see if you are indeed correct.” The man nodded and walked out onto the deck with Thomas following. Thomas noted the strange man also seemed unconcerned by the chaos. Thomas was unable to name a tune being played by the liner’s octet, but was impressed by their crass of playing even as the Titanic readied to make her final plunge beneath the waves any minute now.

The stranger led him to a stairwell off deck, and paused. Thomas watched the man remove a gold time piece and study it. Thomas was about to inquire the time, but the man turned and stated, “It’s time.” The man opened the door, and grabbed Thomas around the bicep firmly. Thomas protested as he was flung bodily forward into the stairwell. He threw his hands up to protect his face as he plummeted down through the air. Time around him seemed to slow down in what he felt to be his last moments, even as he was blinded by a blue, crackling energy.

The impact with the steel deck never came. Thomas opened his eyes hesitantly, and found himself on a glowing platform in a bare room. The man was standing near him. Thomas rubbed his head as a disorienting wave of nausea washed through him and asked, “What happened?” Before the man responded, a door opened and several people, dressed in peculiar clothing, which concealed everything from their feet to the top of their head, entered. One walked up to Thomas, and his metallic sounding voice said, “Mr. Thomas Andrews? Welcome to the future.”

20Km East of Mount Nyamuragira – Present Day

Dr Enrico Hernandez, a well-known archaeologist, hurried through a tunnel he’d uncovered. He paused as he happened upon some beautifully rendered pictograms. They depicted a mountain spewing fire, and a group of hunters fleeing into a cave. Enrico had personally removed ancient lava rock, which had sealed this cave from the knowing world for some 30,000 or so years. He had finally happened upon the discovery of his lifetime. Enrico had announced this discovery to several of his colleagues, and the fact that they would arrive in the next few hours pushed him on. Enrico wanted to be the first to see the Neanderthals, which he had little doubt would be within.

Enrico finally located a large cavern, and he saw several skeletons grouped together around the ancient remains of a fire pit. He carefully moved closer and illuminated the first of the skeletons with his flashlight. The bone structure proved what he had dreamed of. Enrico had discovered Neanderthals with their tools and clothing in near perfect preservation. He laughed giddily from the realization of the fame and respect he would soon be immersed in by peers and associates within the scientific community.

Enrico ached to stay and start cataloguing his find, but posterity and science required that he wait for others to confirm the site first. He turned to leave, and noticed one lone skeleton curled up in the far corner of the cavern, isolated from the others. Curiosity got the better of Enrico, and he proceeded carefully forward to investigate the seeming “outcast” of the family group.

Enrico shone the flashlight beam on the skeleton, and his gasp was almost louder than the rattle of his flashlight striking the rock floor as he mindlessly dropped it from his nerveless fingertips. The flashlight rolled, and stopped in a manner which fully illuminated the skeleton to further mock everything Enrico had believed. Dr. Hernandez found himself staring at the skeleton of a Homo Sapien. Enrico snatched up his flashlight as he howled, “No! It’s impossible!”, as he began running for the exit.

Enrico ran as much to escape the tunnel as his own haunted mind. As if finding the wrong skeleton in the cave weren’t bad enough, the other “anomalies” rocked the foundations of his sanity. Never mind the skeleton was Homo Sapien, but it also had a gold front tooth, wore modern, albeit crumbling, clothing, and was clutching a Victorinox Swiss Army Dive Master watch in its bony fist. Enrico escaped the tunnel, and stared up at the night sky seeking its answer.

The answer would never come for Enrico. While staring at the stars, he failed to notice the red dot of a laser sight appear at his feet, inch up his body, and center on his heart for a split second before it was replaced by the bullet which snuffed his life. The sniper began breaking his rifle down as his spotter established a secure link with a satellite phone. The spotter announced, “Management, target eliminated. Unit 1 awaiting further instructions.” The other end of the conversation acknowledged the announcement by saying, “Understood Unit 1. Inbound traffic currently three hours from your location. Priority is cleaning the resting place of the chrononaut. Secondary is staging target as murdered by Congo rebels.” The spotter looked at the sniper, who shrugged, as the two descended to the entrance.

The sniper commandeered the flashlight from the late Dr. Hernandez, and both entered the tunnel. They ignored the pictograms and the other skeletons as they moved to the lone skeleton. The spotter squatted, and carefully transferred the skeleton and its belongings into a canvas sack. Both men began to walk back out. The spotter said, “I can’t believe that Estrup is finally returning after what, thirty thousand or so years?” The sniper grinned and responded, “Well, realistically Jared’s only been missing for two years, it just took a while for his remains to catch up is all. The rescue attempts were impossible not knowing where he’d sought refuge, and the eruption was keeping the jumps short.” The man shrugged and patted the bag reverently as he continued, “At least he’s coming home now.”

The Game

It's time travel folks. YOU have been selected to be part of a secret organization, which has discovered time travel and uses it to influence the world as it sees fit. The main bulk of the organization is comprised of scientists, however, they also need their private army just in case.

The Rules:

Forum and section rules apply. No god mode, no meta-gaming, no killing player characters without previous approval by the character's owner, one character per player (except for OP, for continuation of the story dynamic and direction with an indication that the character is a non-player character). This story is OP driven. Have fun!

The Character:

Again, I'll be requiring a character sheet. These stories are a combination of things achievable and the "aw shoot" moment that requires either ingenuity or taking a different path to accomplish the mission if you don't have the skill set required. With that in mind, I would humbly suggest thinking hard about what you want your character to be. This story is designed for scientist concepts, or soldier concepts, as the main direction the story will take will be missions.

Attributes are broken into Physical, Social, and Mental.

PHYSICAL: Core movement

Strength: Physical power
Dexterity: Capability of motion
Stamina: Physical & mental fortitude

SOCIAL: Interaction with others

Charisma: Social interaction
Manipulation: Gaining response through deceipt and trickery
Appearance: Attractiveness

MENTAL: Mental capabilities

Perception: Capability to notice details
Intelligence: Smarts (duh)
Wits: Mental reaction

Abilities are broken down into three categories


Alertness: Recognizing details
Athletics: Running, climbing, jumping, swimming
Brawl: Hand to hand fighting
Dodge: Not getting hit
Empathy: The understanding of others' emotions
Expression: Written word or oratory meaning
Intimidation: The ability to gain information or action through threat
Intuition: Gut feelings
Leadership: The ability to motivate through force of personality
Streetwise: Understanding the vernacular of the underbelly of society
Subterfuge: Lying


Animal Ken: Understanding animal behavior
Crafts: The ability to construct or repair
Demolitions: Blowing things up
Drive: Operation of vehicles
Etiquette: Behavior in social settings
Firearms: Shooting
Melee: Fighting with stuff in your hands
Performance: Entertaining audiences
Security: The understanding of securing areas or people, and how to bypass security
Stealth: Sneaking and hiding
Survival: Knowledge of environmental adaptation
Technology: The understanding and operation of gadgets, gizmos, and doohickies


Academics: Formal schooling (High school 1, University 2, Masters 3, Doctorate 4, Scholar 5)
Bureaucracy: Knowledge and application of political procedure
Enigmas: Ability to solve puzzles
Finance: Spending money to make money
Investigation: Combination of formal investigative procedure and common sense
Law: Application of law
Linguistics: Languages known beyond native tongue (1 extra, 2 extra, 4 extra, 8 extra, 16 extra (must be listed))
Medicine: Healing
Occult: Knowledge of supernatural, legends, and myth
Politics: You govern the political process
Research: How to find a sought answer
Science: The application of science (Higher levels indicate mastery of specific field)

Ok all... that's the list of attributes (which can’t be altered) and abilities (which can be within reason)
Attributes and abilities are ranked 1 through 5. As a general belief the numbers can be described as such:

1 poor
2 average
3 good
4 exceptional (only two attributes OR abilities per character)
5 outstanding (only one attribute OR ability per character)

Attributes: All categories begin with a base of 1. You are given the following breakdown of points to allocate between the three main attributes (Physical, Social, Mental). They are 7/5/3. That means you can put 7 points into one main attribute, and then 5 in the second most important to you, and finally 3 in the least important.

Abilities: All three categories start with nothing in any of the ranks. You can spend the following 13/9/5. Just like attributes, take a moment to look at all the available abilities and rank your categories in order of importance. Your most important logically should have 13 points spent in it, then your second 9, and finally 5 in the least important. There are several abilities that do not require any specialized knowledge to use, Athletics being the first I saw. I can run, but have never been formally trained in real nuance. There are others that you have to have at least one rank to perform. Medicine seems to be a good one to use as an example. If you have no training in first aid... you can’t do it.

Last bit... you get 21 (Yes that's new, hence the emphasis, as I want slightly more advanced characters) free points to spend wherever you want on your sheet. Attributes cost 5 points each rank. Abilities cost 2 points each rank.

This story is going to have experience awarded! You can use your experience, so that when you find out how screwed you are potentially, you can grow your character by spending points you earn while playing.

After initial creation the costs for growth are as follows:

Attribute: 10x the cost of the next rank.
Ability: 3x the cost of the next rank.

That's it in a nutshell for the sheet. You need a name, a gender, nationality, age, languages spoken, occupation, description, equipment, and a biography.

Ask me whatever you want in either the public rp discussion thread or IM. As always, thanks for taking a gander.


Name: Dr. Jessica Chance
Gender: Female
Nationality: American
Age: 18
Languages: (*English, Russian, French, German, Spanish)
Occupation: Scientist

Description: 5'4", 110 lbs., blond hair tied in a loose bun, blue eyes, athletic build, wire-rimmed glasses.

Equipment: Antique gold pocket watch, solar powered pocket calculator, backpack, 1 week K rations, hiking boots, rope, binoculars, collection kit, notepad, pencils, Swiss Army knife, water purification kit, matches, lighter, magnifying glass, clothing.

Biography: Jessica is a verifiable genius, and possesses near eidetic memory recall. It is, therefor, for this reason that she found herself earning a doctorate in Applicable Theoretical Physics, a program she herself designed, from MIT at the tender age of 15. She was immediately recruited into the "Chronoproject", and has been one of the instrumental cogs in its direction and continued success for the past three years. The bane of being the elite of intellectuals, is the lack of almost all social graces generally learned through interaction with one's peers. It is for this reason, that she generally shuns, or is shunned by most other people. She recently petitioned successfully for inclusion in jump missions through the threat of removing herself from the program. Management is not happy with this development, but the program would most likely suffer greatly through her termination, so they opted to "wave the carrot for a little while".


Strength: 2
Dexterity: 3
Stamina: 3


Charisma: 1
Manipulation: 2
Appearance: 3


Perception: 3
Intelligence: 5 (5)
Wits: 3


Alertness: 2
Athletics: 2 (2)
Dodge: 1
Intimidation: 1
Intuition: 1


Crafts: 2
Drive: 1
Firearms: 1
Survival: 2
Technology: 3


Academics: 4 (2)
Computer: 2
History: 3 (6)
Linguistics: 3
Research: 3 (2)
Science: 4 (2)

Lord Regal

Campfire Guardian
Name: Mark "Xenon" Wells (From Prison Break, only slightly older)
Gender: Male
Nationality: American
Age: 30
Languages: (*English, French, German)
Occupation: Strategist
Description: Long brown hair, constantly frowning, medium height and build. Glasses. Quiet, withdrawn, utterly ruthless.
Equipment: Personalized Rolex watch, explosives (personally made), standard combat knife, his "silver" tongue, pistol, various disguises (think Jackson from David Baldachi's "The Winner", only not to that extreme), personally made computer (complete with security so tight Apple and Windows don't have it yet), locket (complete with picture, but of what is unknown), basic first aid kit.

Bio: Mark has an incredibly high IQ. From an early age he was well ahead of his peers. However, he was born into a poor family, so college was an impossibility. After a tragic accident, Mark vanished into thin air. When he re-emerged from wherever he went, he had become a master of planning just about anything and had adopted the name Xenon since those with his talent were scarce, like the element he was named for. Xenon started taking on any job that paid well enough, and had a perfect track record. He operated his missions in a signature style. He didn't tell anyone the whole plan, only their part in it. He did this since it simplified the operation, as no one questions if the others are doing their part. They do their job and get out. Xenon is also known for his lack of morals. His plans are often illegal and dangerous. Oftentimes he had someone go somewhere that ensured they will be killed...the "bait" strategy. He also often killed the men he hired after the job is over with the idea that he then gained more money. He's surprisingly ruthless for someone so quiet. Socially he is incredibly awkward, saying almost nothing not related to the job on hand.

A few years after Operation: Prison Break (A complete success) a man came before Xenon at night and requested his services. That night, Xenon learned about the time jumping system, and how they were to manipulate the past as they saw fit. Xenon was intrigued and signed up. He currently works as a strategist, planning missions to be carried out. He doesn't get out in the field himself as often as he'd like to, but on crucial missions he assigns himself as the head to ensure things don't screw up. He still uses his signature style of not telling anyone everything about the mission, only their part.


Strength: 2
Dexterity: 1
Stamina: 3


Charisma: 2
Manipulation: 5 (5)
Appearance: 2


Perception: 3
Intelligence: 4
Wits: 3


Alertness: 2 (2)
Athletics: 1
Expression: 1
Intimidation: 2 (2)
Leadership: 1
Subterfuge: 2 (4)


Crafts: 1
Demolitions: 4 (4)
Drive: 3 (2)
Firearms: 1
Melee: 1
Security: 2


Academics: Formal schooling: 1 (not counting informal, remember his parents couldn't afford college)
Enigmas: 3 (2)
Investigation: 2
Law: 1
Linguistics: 2
Medicine: 2
Occult: 1
Research: 2

(I thought Xenon would be a perfect fit for this operation, so he's baaaack!!)
Last edited:


Name:Eric Kessler
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Languages: German (Native), English, Mayan, Latin, Arabic
Job: Explorer / German Army Officer

Description: 6’ Tall with blonde hair, grey eyes and a strong athletic build, He was considered to be quite handsome up until 1940 when an allied bomb struck his staff car.
The entire left side of his face is now a mess of scar tissue and he is partially blind in his left eye and has gained a slight limp.
When not on assignment he is often seen wearing black pin striped trousers with a white shirt and black waistcoat, he also owns a 1940’s German greatcoat with captain’s insignia.

Personal Items: M712 Pistol (“Broom handle” Mauser), Compass, Box of matches, a packet of 1940's cigarrettes, German army canteen, Bayonet, Ice pick, Leather Bound Journal with Pencil stub and Torch. He also carries a small silver pocket watch (of German manufacture obviously) with the initials H.K engraved inside the lid.

Bio: Born 1st June 1914 Eric spent most of his childhood in boarding school in an attempt to avoid the war, mainly studying science and history. His father a navy captain was declared MIA in 1916 after his ship and all crew aboard vanished without a trace whilst on a routine patrol around Iceland.
Forever intrigued about his father’s disappearance Eric became obsessed with discovering his fathers whereabouts, once coupled with his love of Physics and ancient mythology Eric became convince that his father had unwittingly managed to travel to another dimension although he would never admit as much to anyone else.
At the age of twenty, Eric now a qualified archaeologist and a member of an American led expedition into the South American rainforest discovered the ruins of an ancient Mayan temple deep within the rainforest it was within this temple that he would discover what he would later refer to as a “Time” map.
It was with this ancient artefact that Eric proposed that it would be possible to use it to navigate through time and space. Although his research was largely dismissed as rubbish or pulp science fiction at best it later proved instrumental in the Chrononaut program.
With the outbreak of war Eric joined the German army where he served in North Africa as a staff officer up until his staff car was hit by an allied bomb heavily wounded he was given a medical discharge from the army, However it was at this point that he was assigned to the so called "Occult" unit where his unique knowledge and skills was used to locate ancient artefacts and relics. Although he considered the idea of using such items as weapons idiotic he decided to join in order to pursue his thirst for adventure.
In November 1942 Captain Eric Kessler and his team were killed whilst trying to locate the mythical Xanandu in the Himalayan Mountains although his body was never recovered it was assumed that he perished with the others. Or so history would have you believe.
Now a member of the Chrononaut program having been rescued from the mountain side Eric is employs unique knowledge of ancient language and artefacts as well as his ruthless ability to get what he wants.

PHYSICAL: The core movement abilities of your character (5)

Strength: 3
Dexterity: 3
Stamina: 2

SOCIAL: How well you character interacts and is perceived by others (3)

Charisma: 2
Manipulation: 3
Appearance: 1

MENTAL: Your mental capabilities (7)

Perception: 2
Intelligence: 4
Wits: 4

TALENTS: A listing of talents, most are self-explanatory (5)

Alertness: 2 (4pts)
Brawl:1 (2pts)
Dodge: 2
Intimidation: 1 (2pts)
Leadership: 1 (2pts)

SKILLS: A listing of skills, most are self-explanatory (9)

Drive: 1
Security:1 (2pts)
Survival: 2
Technology: 2(4pts)

KNOWLEDGES: List of knowledge’s, most are self-explanatory (13)

Academics: 3
Enigmas:2 (2pts)
Occult: 3
Science: 2

(OOC:seen as its time travel I thought I'd have someone from the past)
Last edited by a moderator:


Jessica jogged along the indoor track, oblivious to the sounds of her hollow-sounding footsteps reverberating back at her, as she mentally mulled her way through a complex physics problem. She glanced up at the red digitized time on the wall panel, and sighed. She slowed to a brisk walk, snatching a towel set out on one of the benches as she passed it, and mopped her sweaty forehead. She rolled the towel up and draped it across the top of her shoulders, before she grabbed her water bottle and gym bag.

She proceeded down a brightly lit corridor, and immediately her mind was again consumed by the mental puzzle she'd presented herself earlier in the day. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she failed to return the greetings she'd received from several of the various staff members of the project, whom she passed on the way to a meeting room, unknowingly perpetuating her icy image. She paused at the entrance to Room 101, dug through her gym bag, and produced her identification card. She swiped it through an electronic door access port, waited for the buzz, and entered.

She chose one of the plush chairs far from the head of the table where Management would stand. Being dressed in green shorts, white sweat soaked T-shirt, and tennis shoes was probably inappropriate for the meeting, but she was still cross with Management for the last spate of e-mails voicing concern of her inclusion on jumps. She sipped her water as she glanced around the wood paneled room. Her eyes inevitably fell upon the red digitized readout of time, an inescapable presence anywhere within the facility. She dug through her gym bag, removed her gold antique filigreed pocket watch, compared the time, and wound its mechanism as she waited for the others that were invited to this meeting.
Last edited by a moderator:

Falcon McCallister

NAME: James Smith (CALL SIGN: Snake Doctor)
AGE: 32
LANGUAGE: English (Native), Spanish
JOB: Security
DESCRIPTION: 6’0 210 lbs with black hair with slightly graying temples, blue-grey eyes, broad shoulders and muscular build, never seen without his ball cap and gun belt.
APPAREL: Black jeans, Black T-Shirt, Black Combat Boots, Black Tactical shooter Gloves (missing the index fingers), Black Tactical Sunglasses, Black ball cap, and a black duty belt and tactical vest, mil-spec wrist watch
DUTY BELT: Drop down holsters on each leg, 2pr. hand cuffs, and 4 extra mags for his glocks, Tazer w/ extra cartridges
VEST: map & compass, 8 M4 clips, 4 Glock Clips, comm. system, sat phone, Lighter, gps system
JUMP PACK: (small backpack attacked to vest back) Small notepad and pens, pencils, and permanent marker, Flashlight, Survival Kit, 5 pair flex cuffs, combat aid kit, 1wk rations, 7mm ammo, apparel for the mission, night vision goggles
WEAPONS: Custom M4 Carbine w/ CQB sling with mounted flashlight, laser sight and ACOG scope, 2 custom Glock .40 tactical with flashlight and laser and suppressors, survival knife, pocket knife, and a Remington 7mm sniper rifle (for the long distance jobs)
BIO: James’ past is a mystery that nobody knows. All that is known is he reports only to management and that he is coldblooded and ruthless with a no nonsense attitude. It is known that he is one of the original members to the project but nobody has ever really met him, seen in passing, but has never actually met him. Most have avoided him due to his relationship with management and others for different reasons due to rumors and such about his actions and attitude but none know how he is personally. Rumor also has it that some of management seem to be scared of him and it has been witnessed management ask him for advise. He spends most of his spare time on the target range or the armory and he has a love for the American west, and even has a fast fast-draw to go with it. (OCC- thought I would use a mysterious past and have more of the character revealed as the story progressed)
Strength: 3
Dexterity: 4
Stamina: 3
Charisma: 2
Manipulation: 3
Appearance: 1
Perception: 3
Intelligence: 2
Wits: 3
Alertness: 1
Athletics: 2 (2)
Brawl: 1
Dodge: 2 (2)
Intimidation: 2 (2)
Intuition: 2 (2)
Leadership: 1
Streetwise: 1
Subterfuge: 2 (2)
Animal Ken: 2 (2)
Drive: 1
Firearms: 5
Melee: 2 (2)
Security: 2
Stealth: 2 (2)
Survival: 2 (2)
Technology: 1
Academics: 1
Enigmas: 1
History: 1 (2)
Investigation: 1
Linguistics: 1
Medicine: 1

EXP: 1
Last edited by a moderator:


Name: John Smith (“The leftenant”)
Gender: Male
Nationality: Anglo-Saxon
Age: 28 or 29
Languages: *English, German, Russian, tiếng Việt
Occupation: Soldier, Explorer, Observer

Description: 6’ 2” with gray eyes, short black hair, wearing a burgundy greatcoat with his British rank insignia on the shoulders over a black shirt, black trousers, burgundy frock coat, black homburg, and combat boots

Equipment: Victorinox fob watch, KA-BAR knife, M14 w/ M76 grenade launcher, Webley Break-Top Revolver, gladius vintage from the plains of Gaul, , sword cane with adorning eagle on top, tuxedo used occasionally, video recorder, tape recorder, notebook with multiple pencils and pens, Zippo lighter with MACV-SOG emblem, electric torch

Biography: John Smith was born John Smith to James and Martha Smith, in Atherstone, North Warwickshire, Warwickshire, West Midlands, Midlands, England, The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, on June 12th, 1942. Shortly after he was born, John was moved with his mother to the United States, for fear of a renewed Blitz on London. Though the war ended three years after the family moved to the U.S., the Smiths remained in America, becoming naturalized citizens on March 29th, 1951. On June 12th, 1960, John turned 18, and on that day, as a birthday present to himself, he enlisted into the United States Navy, eventually becoming a SEAL assigned to the newly formed MACV-SOG. Being highly skilled at his work, John was submitted for OCS, and became an ensign on December 8th, 1967, rising to the rank of Lieutenant, calling it leftenant, and wearing his native insignia instead of the American one. On November 11th, 1969, while on a mission in Cambodia, John was met by a different man, as he would later describe the man, ‘an unearthly child’. Being noted for his skills, John was asked to join an organization with great technology. John, thinking there was something going up, reluctantly followed to investigate. When he arrived, he saw time travel, the future, the past, and he loved it. Now John is a member of the organization.


Strength: 3
Dexterity: 2 (5)
Stamina: 3


Charisma: 1
Manipulation: 1
Appearance: 3 (10)


Perception: 2
Intelligence: 2
Wits: 1


Alertness: 3 (2)
Athletics: 2
Dodge: 2
Intimidation: 2
Intuition: 1


Crafts: 2
Drive: 2
Firearms: 5 (2)
Survival: 3
Technology: 2


Academics: 1
Computer: 0
History: 1
Linguistics: 3 (2)
Research: 0
Science: 1

Lord Regal

Campfire Guardian
Xenon casually walked down the various halls of the complex. As always, he was thinking of the task he had been assigned. This time it involved jumping to ancient Asia, and Xenon was supposed to pick who to go and what they would need. The only restriction on the mission was that no one high up was to go, as it was a fairly minor mission, so Xenon himself couldn't go. Every time he passed another staff member, he gave the same curt nod, regardless of the greeting, if any, he received from the others. This automatic response left him free to think, so it was his most common fallback.

He reached room 101 and swiped into it. A quick scan of the room told him that there was only one other person in the room, and she was someone Xenon didn't recognize. Different department, apparently. Again, giving his standard nod, Xenon selected a chair. While it seemed at random, it actually was carefully chosen. It was close enough to the front that he didn't seem afraid of Management, but it was far enough away that it was unlikely they would ask him something beyond his normal scope. It was also close enough to the unknown woman so that they could talk, but far enough away that their voices would have to be slightly raised so as to prevent subterfuge (as people are less likely to lie if their voices are unnecessarily raised, Xenon had discovered), and the two chairs were angled as such that the woman could comfortably start the conversation, but Xenon could not comfortably do it, so he would not appear rude if a conversation did not start. In truth he didn't care if a conversation was started...he just wanted to hold all the cards in case one did.


He stood silently under the yew tree's bordering the cemetry, despite the heavy rain plastering his blonde hair to his skull he lit a cigarette, last one. He'd have to get someone to pick some more up for him next time they were passing by 1942.
"I thought I would find you here" "Hello Thomas I suppose your here to collect me?" he replied his attention never leaving the service taking place only a few metres away.
Mr Thomas Andrews formerly of RMS Titanic came to stand beside his friend, it wasn't the first time that he'd had to retrieve the scarred German and it probably wouldn't be the last "So whose funeral is it?"
"Jared Estrup they found his remains in Africa the other day, you know he was there when they dragged me off that mountain? At least he got a proper funeral, unlike us eh?" Thomas shook his head in mock dispair "You are a maudlin chap aren't you? now come on your meant to be at a meeting"
Eric stared at the glowing tip of his cigarette wondering how he'd be remembered before crushing it beneath his heel.

Eric entered the meeting room his greatcoat still soaking wet dripped water onto the lino floor "Good Afternoon, Mein Herr...Fraulien" he greeted the only other occupants of the room, taking a seat opposite the young woman. In another life he may have tried talking to her but after his "accident" he found talking to women too nerve racking an experience and so didn't bother. God he wished this meeting would hurry up and start.
Last edited by a moderator:


Whistle, whistle, sing, whistle, whistle, sing, sing. And it was usually the same song too, that light hearted, yet serious subjected song, created and made famous by one of Britain's most loved and popular bands. In a way, the song fit everybody in the organization, they had all basically witnessed every event the song contained, from the Romanov Massacre to the Crusades, from the German lightning war to some of the world's worst assassinations of the 20th century. The song itself was fine, it was just that the Anglo-Saxon kept singing it, forgetting half the words, and butchering most of the rest. If he could get it right, it'd be fine. But he couldn't, so it wasn't.

As luck would have it, John was doing just that, whistling and singing that song which fit his era of origin so well, but he hadn't had time to remember, the song coming out only 11 months before he disappeared, and these things took time to make it over the Atlantic and the Pacific. Pity. John was off to a meeting, a meeting of various people from various departments, mostly big wig scientists, but there was a security guy and a fellow military officer. They would make good enough talk.

The meeting room did not fully consist of the all people John was expecting. Instead, it consisted of the officer as expected, but the others were unexpected. One, if memory served correctly, was a convict who stylized himself akin to a Napoleon. The other, John didn't recognize at all. A female, barely a woman at that, no older than 17 or 18. He thought he was the only one under 30, though close to that hill, and here they come out with a kid! What qualification did she have? Oh well, he would probably find out through the course of the meeting. John took a seat in one of the chairs, one proven to be particularly spinny, and proceeded to spin about in slow rotations, waiting for the meeting to be over.

Falcon McCallister

James was in the indoor firing range doing target practice when his watch alarm beeped to remind him of the meeting, jacking the practice rounds out he put back in a good magazine and headed down the hall. About halfway there Adam one of management messengers called out as he ran up with a stack of files "sir, management wanted me to bring these to you, they said since your job is security they wanted to see if you had any objections to the jump crew, they said pay special attention to the one on top cause they don't think you will approve"
"why wouldn't i approve?" he asked looking at the file, besides the young age james didn't see any reason not to approve, smart and maybe to valuable but she has to get experience somewhere. flipping through the files he saw no reason to object to any until the last one.
with a raised eyebrow he held the file up "are they sure on this one?"
"they said they were, something about you two being similar in temperment you both might get along"
"thats not what worries me, its the dark past im looking at"
"sir, if i may not everything is black and white and beside isn't that like the pot calling the kettle black"
"whats that mean?"
"Sir i don't know your past but what i have over heard from management is that your history has a little more black in it than white and almost triple of both in grey so to speak, no offence intended"
"non taken, and you do have a point, I see no problems"
"are you sure, i don't think their gonna like you not throwing that one out"
"they will get over it"
"one of these days you need to quit trying to make them mad" the young man said smiling as he walked away.
"Now where is the fun in that" he said getting a small cheerful laugh in response
James headed on to room 101, swiped his card and noted the people inside, as he made his way to a seat close to the front,"now hopefully they hurry up" he thought to himself as he took his seat.


Jessica lifted her eyes away from the winding mechanism of her time piece as the door buzzed. She studied Xenon with detached interest as he entered the room. She returned her attention to her watch a few moments later, and said nothing to the man as he sat down at the table. She closed the lid to her watch and tucked it into her gym bag. She sat back in her chair, clasped her hands on her sternum, and closed her eyes.

Her attention was again drawn to the door as it buzzed. She lifted an eyebrow at the general appearance of Eric as he entered. Perhaps it didn't matter how one dressed at these meetings after all. "Tag", she replied after being greeted by the man. She studied him briefly after he sat across from her, pulled the towel off her shoulders and tossed it toward him. She leaned back against the chair back and stared at the ceiling.

Jessica again looked toward the door as John entered. She studied him a moment, before looking at the digitized time once again. She returned her attention toward the man as he sat and spun on his chair, and she shook her head disapprovingly as she closed her eyes once more. Soon all was lost in her mental puzzle, which she much preferred to interaction.

She sighed audibly as the door again buzzed, and James entered. She looked at him, and then at a different door that buzzed. She sat up slightly as Management stepped in. This time Management, as the staff colloquially called any of the members of the inner circle, was a man in his mid-forties. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a goatee. He wore a black on black suit with no tie. He looked around the room for a few moments and nodded as he commented, "Looks like you're all here so we'll begin. First... there's been a change in jump plans, so whatever you might have heard or think. Scrap it. Now... introductions...".

The man pointed at Xenon and said, "This lady and gentlemen is Mark Wells. He's jumping because of his talents at planning and problem solving." He next pointed to John and James in unison and continued, "These are John and James Smith. No relation. They'll be protection for the team." He pointed at Jessica and said, "Dr. Jessica Chance. She's lead scientist on this jump." He looked at Eric last and said, "And this is Eric Kessler. He's being brought in to assist Dr. Chance, and for his expertise in the time you'll be jumping to."

He pulled a remote from his pocket, lifted it toward a sensor on the ceiling and pushed a button causing the lights to dim. He turned, pushed another button, and the entire wall flickered to an image of a schooner. "This", he stated, "is the Thomas B. Schall. Last contact December 12, 1942 eighty or so miles north off the coast of Puerto Rico. She was lost with all hands to unknown causes, though speculation is a mine. Dr. Chance performed a tremendous amount of research comparing nautical reports, tidal reports, planned routes of travel, ally and axis mining information, and believes the most likely spot TBS went down was in the vicinity of the the Milwaukee Deep of the Puerto Rico Trench, which would explain why it's never been located." Management pushed a button and the image faded and the lights came up.

He looked at the gathered for a moment before continuing, "The jump will place you in Puerto Rico seven days prior to last contact with the schooner. The mission is to acquire a means of travel to rendezvous with TBS on the twelfth, board her, remove a container, which the description of Dr. Chance is well acquainted with, and return to Puerto Rico to meet up with the return vehicle for the jump home. The usual rules apply. There will be no terminations performed on anybody in that time, unless deemed absolutely necessary to succeed with the mission. If a situation presents itself, tally the exacts as you've all been trained. Let's just make it easy folks, and restrain yourselves. The crew of TBS, we don't care about. They're doomed anyway, and if it speeds things along, do what's necessary. Just make sure it's on the twelfth and paradox is an unlikely result."

He leaned against the table looking at the assembled people. He said, "That's it in a nutshell. This is a fairly straight-forward mission. Mostly it's to test you all as a team. It won't always be this crew, or this easy... and there is room for errors if you allow them. A week is a long time to take a jump, but not knowing definitive timeline, it's necessary. Questions? Keep them brief, as you're leaving in... ", his eyes flicked toward the digitized time before looking at Eric, "Thirty minutes."
Last edited by a moderator:


John stopped spinning when he heard the door open, allowing a management member to come into the room. His clothes seemed a bit depressing in John's opinion. Sure, he wore black, but at least he had some burgundy to accent the black. But, that's management for you, always dreary to the überest (now a word). The meeting ought to be interesting though, management meetings always were, exciting new missions, new missions that would make the world a better place, at least that's what John thought they were doing. Sure, some guys got killed, some got rescued, but they always seemed to end up in the better for the everyone.

The dreaded news hit, all missions cancelled. John was slated to use up some of his vacation time, a weekend holiday in the year 200,125, during the 4th Great and Bountiful Human Empire, he wanted to get some new camouflage and kronkburgers. "I have a question. Since time is sort of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff, to use the technical term, why can't we leave after we get back from our various missions instead?" After asking the question, John thought about the mission a bit more.

This mission was a bit curious. If John remembered correctly, the Schall was a schooner, good sailing vessel, but what was on it that was so important? Since nobody else was asking yet, John felt that it was best for him to ask. "Hey, since we're going to be spending a week on a doomed vessel, what's this oh so important thing in the box? Don't tell me it's bigger on the inside, and that's why you want it."

Lord Regal

Campfire Guardian
Xenon had listened to Management's orders, and instantly worked towards memorizing them. He hadn't exactly appreciated being called by his actual name...and his full actual name to boot. However he had allowed his face to remain completely still, not betraying his displeasure. Upon completion of the orders, he was about to ask a question when...John, it was, asked his questions. When he finished, Xenon spoke up. "If I may, could you outline each person's duties while on this mission? You hinted at them, but never specified." Xenon didn't exactly appreciate having to ask this, and it struck him that may have been Management's goal. They knew he was a control freak, not that Xenon ever thought of himself that way. He simply liked to hold all the cards, or if that wasn't possible, as many as WAS possible. Management had, whether it was intentional or not, taken that one away from him. He glanced over at Jessica...lead scientist...what field, he wondered...another thing Management had only hinted at, never said outright. With this knowledge it was all Xenon could do not to scowl. He was the "planner and problem solver..." yet another general least his question should provoke more specific answers...the more he knew, the more he could manipulate and control the others.

Not for the first time Xenon wondered what exactly Management was after. He knew they were manipulating past events to suit Management, but he had never heard WHY. Xenon had plans to discover the answer, but...what if he didn't like that answer? He doubted very much that if he wanted to leave he'd be allowed to...which posed another problem again. Restraining the urge to sigh, Xenon waited for his answer.


So he was to assist the young woman who had kindly lent him a towel, obviously she was smarter that her current appearance portrayed.
Eric had sat silently throughout the meeting, although he was happy to get out of this damn facility the idea of spending a week on American soil was less than ideal.

He listened to the questions posed by the others poliely before proceeding to speak himself in thickly accented English "Although time is... Wibbly Wobbly as you so elegantly put it, certain events must take place in sequence in order for the desired outcome to occur. This Canister that we are to collect will no doubt prove essential in our future endeavours" Eric scanned the faces in the room with the exception of Dr Chance who seemed to be day dreaming everyone else seemed to be approaching their 30's not a bad age bracket although technically he was a lot older
"Oh and to answer your question...Mark (Xenon) is it? The real reason I am going along, because this lot will lie through their teeth to you..." the manager shot Eric a furious glare it hadn't been the first time Eric had gone out of his way to upset them "...Is because in 1942 I was serving in the Wermacht so I have a unique experience of that time period, which reminds me...You have my military ID I want it back. Puerto Rico is American territory and I have no desire to be shot as a spy"
Last edited by a moderator:


Name: Joseph Philippe 'Jo-Jo' Duval
Nationality: French
Age: 41
Languages: French, English
Occupation: Sniper

Description: 6'3, 170 lbs. Jo-Jo is bald and has no facial hair. His eyes are of a cold light blue colour (the eyes of a sniper). He has a tatto depicting a skull with a green beret and several lines under it (Legio Patria Nostria; Pericula Ludus; More Majorum) on his left biceps. There's an ugly scar going from his forehead over the left eyebrow, left eye and ending on his left cheek. There are several others on his body. He's blind from his left eye (which is obvious if someone looks upon him). Also most of the pinky of his left hand is missing. He has a rather skinny build. Usually wears a black T-shirt or a tank top, army green pants and sneakers. Smokes.

FR F2 Sniper Rifle (camouflaged)

ALICE harness:
Colt 1911 Pistol (mounted on chest)
Fairbairn-Sykes dagger (mounted on suspenders)
Anglehead flashlight (mounted on suspenders)
12 extra clips for the rifle
4 extra clips for the pistol
2 canteens

F1 backpack
MPL-50 Entrenching Tool (on the back of the bag)
GVS-5 Laser Rangefinder
A weeks worth of food
A bottle of cognac
A carton of cigarettes
Waterproof poncho

Also owns a ghillie suit

Biography: Jo-Jo was born and raised in Paris. Since age twelve he caused nothing but trouble to others and his family. As soon as he turned eighteen he ran away from home joined the Foreign Legion where he attained the rank of Caporal Chef. He was found to be a talented sniper and at one point he was even a member of Groupement des Commandos Parachutistes. During his time in the Legion he was captured twice by enemies. First time he survived thanks to the timely intervention of his brothers-in-arms but his left eye was almost cut out (and was permanently ruined) and the second time he was presumed dead. The body was never found.


Strength: 3 (5)
Dexterity: 4
Stamina: 4


Charisma: 3
Manipulation: 2
Appearance: 1


Perception: 3
Intelligence: 2
Wits: 3


Alertness: 3
Athletics: 3
Brawl: 3
Intuition: Gut feelings


Crafts: 2
Drive: 2 (4)
Firearms: 5
Melee: 3
Security: 3 (6)
Stealth: 3
Survival: 2 (4)
Technology: 1 (2)


Enigmas: 2
Linguistics: 1
Medicine: 2

(I'm late again. I hope I got the character sheet right. If not, point it out please)


Jo-Jo finished the shower after his daily 15 km run. He headed towards his room humming "Le Boudin" and dreaming when a management messenger almost ran into him.

"Sorry, mon ami. I was..." Jo-Jo began but was interrupted by the messenger: "Mister Duval, you are to report to room 101. You should have been there five minutes ago." "Diable! What is going on now?" Jo-Jo asked. He should have had another day off before his next mission. "You're a last minute addition to a high-priority mission, Mister Duval." the messenger replied, "Please report to room 101 immediately." This irritated Jo-Jo. "What else can I do?" he replied and jogged towards room 101.

He reached the room, swiped his card and barged in. He noticed a few other people in the room when he faced Management and said: "What is this supposed to be? You could have told me earlier, non? But you would have me run around like a fou, non? " He continued to face Management and still didn't pay any attention to the other people in the room.


Management looked at John as he was addressed. He folded his arms over his chest, and waited until John had asked both questions before replying, "You're doing this mission now, because it's what you've been assigned to do. As for the contents of the container that Dr. Chance and Herr Kessler are to retrieve, you don't need to concern yourself over either. You have been chosen to provide security, and that's what you need to focus on."

Management nodded at Eric's explanation to John of things approvingly, and then frowned at the lying barb Eric tossed at him. He waited for Eric to finish before he turned his attention to Xenon next as Xenon asked his questions. The man closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He took a deep, cleansing breath and announced to the room, "I don't understand what's difficult to understand. We all speak the same language here, and I have given you the information that you need for the jump. Mr. Wells. You are joining the crew because you have a knack of thinking of things that others tend to overlook, and there are too many variables not to have that talent included on this jump. The Smiths are security, and it's as simple as that. Dr. Chance has been appraised of what exactly to look for and retrieve. Herr Kessler, will assist Dr. Chance with anything her little heart desires. Now..."

He was interrupted by the appearance of Joseph, as he burst into the meeting room. He listened to the man berate him for all of ten seconds, before he held his hand up, silencing the angry Frenchman. He pointed at Joseph and stated, "This is Joseph Duval. He will also be joining the security team." He looked up at the digitized readout and shook his head disapprovingly as he said, "Fifteen minutes folks. That's just enough time to report to outfitting and receive your gear for jump. It's 1942, you'll be dropped near Roosevelt Roads Naval Base. Because of the seven day lag, you're receiving era gear. You need to blend, not bend this jump." Management turned, paused and looked at James. He said, "Mr. Smith, you accompany me for a moment, and meet with the others at outfitting." He didn't wait for James as he exited through the door he'd arrived through.

Jessica lifted her eyes up as one of the crew were called out by Management and frowned. She watched the two exit, and stood while gathering her belongings. She studied each of the people she'd be with over the next seven days. They appeared to be a steady enough bunch, and even though she disapproved of Management, she was at least getting out of the facility finally. She turned her full attention to Kessler, studied his scars with the normal amount of curiosity for something that somebody receives for being outside socially acceptable norms, and then hefted her gym bag onto her shoulder. She lifted her chin slightly as she addressed Eric in German, "Best leave the great coat behind. Allies frown on your lot where we're headed." She turned and headed off toward outfitting.

Lord Regal

Campfire Guardian
Xenon was unable to stop his eye from twitching, just once, while Management replied to his question. It was painfully obvious what Management was doing...although just knowing what it was didn't mean one could change it. Xenon prided himself on his detachment from all things not related to the job, and his ability to manipulate any situation to his advantage. In a span of 15 minutes, Management had taken them both away temporarily...the first part by refusing to call him by anything but his actual name, the second by making his question seem idiotic. Xenon forced his unwilling eye to stay still for the rest of the meeting. Upon completion of the meeting, Xenon rose immediately and left, saying nothing to any of the others.

As he walked briskly towards outfitting, his hand unconsciously found the locket he had taken to wearing. Xenon had never shown or even offered a slight explanation as to the contents of the locket, but speculation abounded from a picture of himself (from those who thought he was narcissistic) to a wife who had been tragically killed. When Xenon realized what he was doing he pulled his hand away quickly. However, his expression lessened in severity slightly...a high show of emotion for Xenon when he was off the job. On the job he tended to get more emotional, but only those that were acceptable for the job on hand. He found that people were more likely to let little details about themselves or the facility slip when they thought he was closer to them as a person, not to mention the easier manipulation that came from that art. Retightening his expression, Xenon entered outfitting.


He watched as management left the room with the realisation that he probably wasn't going get his ID back, well he had irritated him on purpose so it was only to be expected.

Out of the corner of his good eye he noticed the girl, Dr Chance studying his heavily scarred face with the same mixture of curiosity and revulsion he'd learned to live with. Paying her no attention he was suprised to find himself being addressed in fairly fluent German "Best leave the great coat behind. Allies frown on your lot where we're headed." Eric suppressed a snort of laughter at her well meaning comment "Ja, because my flawless British accent is certainly going to fool them" he was being rude, she was only trying to be helpful and the sarcasm wasn't nessecessary. Eric took a deep breath before continuing "I apologise I didn't mean to be sharp with with you, its just that....I run the very real risk of being shot as a spy" Eric slowly started heading towards the outfitting room pausing briefly to face Dr. Chance "While I remember, Thank you for reading my book you're probably the only person who has in thirty years"
Last edited by a moderator:


Jessica grinned at the first comment after Eric apologized and retorted, "Only if you say anything." She jerked her head in the direction of Duval, Smith and the quickly retreating Xenon as she continued, "We have these big burly types to keep us breathing anyway." She shrugged, and exited into the hallway. She moved toward the outfitting room.

She entered and waited for one of the staff to walk up to her. She was assigned a US Navy uniform with ensign insignia, a purse, and several other items appropriate for the time line they were jumping to. While being outfitted, she was reminded to avoid the base, as she obviously had no proper official records to back-up her phony identification, and that her uniform was proper for off-base use. Jessica listened with surprising attention, and nodded occasionally. She moved into a cubicle and dressed in her costume, and left all but her watch behind.

She entered the hallway and headed off for the jump station.

Lord Regal

Campfire Guardian
Xenon shrugged his shoulders, testing the give of his outfit. Satisfied, he dropped off most of his belongings in the cubicle he had been given. He kept his watch and locket though, as well as his glasses. In addition to his Navy uniform he'd been given a contained several things that Management obviously thought would help him. Without hesitating Xenon dumped everything in the briefcase in the trash. He then hurried off to his personal quarters, knowing he had time.

Xenon entered his quarters after disengaging the security given by Management, the rest designed by Xenon himself. He walked over to a drawer and pulled out. In it were several of his clothing articles, but these were of no use to him. He pulled them aside and felt along the bottom of the drawer. After several seconds he found the latch. Pulling open the secret compartment Xenon beheld his personally made explosives stash. His proficiency with demolitions was one of a few things Xenon had left hidden from Management. He took enough explosives to fill half of the briefcase, then resealed the compartment and closed the drawer. He then opened the drawer above it and repeated the process. This compartment, however, contained various items that didn't seem to go together. Putty, false hair (facial and otherwise), and several suits that seemed to have nothing but padding. This was the other major talent he had kept hidden; his ability to disguise himself.

Back in the Prison Break days, Xenon had relied on stylists who he could bribe to alter his appearance...of course they were all killed afterward to keep their mouths shut (and to recover the funds). However, realizing that he'd be caught eventually, Xenon became autonomous in this regard. His full set of disguising tools was about twice the size of what was in the drawer, but Xenon was disinclined to go through the security systems guarding the other half. He grabbed several multipurpose disguise pieces and stuffed them in the briefcase. He then went to his bathroom and grabbed a box of contact lenses. Xenon despised contacts, but his glasses could be a dead giveaway while disguised. Fitting everything neatly into the briefcase, Xenon reset his security systems and left for the jump station.