PTFO guys, PTFO! (private with Morgan)

OOC: Right...technically, this is taking place in two places at once, so I just decided to start it off at Dean's house and let you jump in from the game room or something. Reply in here, but just remember that this RP is getting seriously meta. Well, meta for me at least.

IC: After liberating a city form Poine and being promoted to decurio, the centurions also threw in one more little sweet reward for completing the mission to Park City - an extra week of permission. Or furlough. Or leave. I don't really care what its called as long as I'm not at camp during it.

And since I was going back home during the start of the summer, and most of mortal friends would be down in Cancun or Myrtle Beach or Mackinac because they're too tightwadded or something to leave the state,  I decided to send one of my gaming friends - SupD!ckhead  - a  message at a rest stop in Illinois asking if they wanted to "squad up" in Battlefield 4.

But that was hours ago, and after an hour of being back at the house in Grand Rapids, I decided to pull out the iPod and check the group chat to see if she replied. She seemed like a bit of a hothead, so I made sure to let her know that it would be several hours before I could actually hop on the rig and set up anything meaningful.

OOC:

Chiara's phone gave a jolt in her pocket. She briefly stopped abusing the punching bag to slip it out and have a look at it. Oh, it was Redline.

yea sure, she texted back. two hours.

At about five pm, she was in the game room with her computer, logged into the game with her username SupD!ckhead and hit up Redline. She had showered and switched from sweaty workout gear into a comfy army jacket and cargo pants, and was ready to hit it.

Seeing that she replied "yeah. two hours" about...three hours ago, I made a mad dash for the PC and signed into Battlelog (OOC: This is the online browser thing that BF4 uses for matchmaking) after turning on the VPN - we wouldn't any pubstomping to be disrupted by monsters, now would we? After that was all set up, I found D!ckhead's session and joined it...only to be put in a queue. Oh well, 1 of 1 isn't too bad.

With time to spare, I opened up a Skype and sent her an invite through that. Voice chat only though, as my experience has led me to not want to see other people's faces while playing.

The Skype music started playing and Chiara popped her headphones in.

"Whassup," she said as soon as the call had started. All she could see was Red's profile picture -- he never video called. Which she wasn't mad about, after all, she was in Camp Half-Blood and she didn't feel like explaining to mortals why the person running around in the background was carrying a flaming sword.

"Nothin' much, just got back from out west - school and sh*t. How 'bout you?"

I have this sort of running lie going on with her, since I've told her I'm from Michigan and yet can't be on all the time. Of course, the reason for that is because my rig is here and camp is aprox. 2,500 miles away, but to D!ckhead, I go to the "Douglas Walker International Baccalaureate Academy For Boys" in Sacramento, CA. It's not a cool lie, and it makes me look like an @ss, but at least she doesn't know the truth.

But when you think about it, would a mortal really believe some guy they met online when they sat that they're the son of a Roman goddess and fight in the Roman Legion hidden inside of a Bay Area highway tunnel? Probably not, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

"Same, bro. School sucks @ss."

She had told him she lived in New York and fortunately, he had never inquired further.

"So, ready to smash this?"

"Definitely." I jovially replied. "Yeah, I've been thinking about this pretty much since I passed Chicago. So, Conquest sound good to you?"