Michael Garibaldi ((B5, application, open rp))

[chief_michael]

Just five more minutes. He had five more minutes before his shift was over and he’d be able to retreat to his quarters with a hot pizza and 4 or 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Things were finally going his way.. which had him worried. Because when things went his way, it meant that something was gonna go wrong, something always went horribly,

Comments

[i_am_an_hero]

Most of the new applicant's answers didn't make a lot of sense to A, but he was used to that by now. New arrivals almost always had some degree of culture shock. But some of the answers...

"Oh, a really good fresh mozzarella is wonderful!" he agreed. "I like to make a sandwich with it, and tomatoes, and some pesto. It's better when the tomatoes and basil are in season, but the ones from my greenhouse are almost as good."

((delicious sandwich shamelessly lifted from Mr. Tramps in Austin, TX))

[chief_michael]

He grinned crookedly, "I haven't had a good fresh tomato in years. Pop used to bring pesto home when we were kids.. god that stuff was amazing. You can't get anything that good on the station without spending a lot or finding a damn good smuggler."

Garibaldi looked around, "Um, where are we anyway?"

((omnom!))

[i_am_an_hero]

"The tomatoes do very well in my greenhouse," A told him proudly. "I always have plenty on hand. They, they're easy to take care of." He smiled, proud of his growing agricultural empire. "This is a sort of school. It, it's a strange place. People are brought here without knowing why from places that, they, some people are from different times or worlds."

[chief_michael]

He held up his hands, “I tried growing tomatoes with no luck. Black thumb, I guess. Ivanova manages to keep one little coffee plant alive so she can get a cup of the good stuff once in awhile. So.. you can get the real thing here? Tomatoes, cheese, basil, sardines?” his eyes gleamed with excitement. Yes, he was in a strange place, but the prospect of *real* food and the potential to cook with it had him a bit distracted.

"A school? What kind of school?"

[psycho_vertue]

Diana arched an eyebrow up at the man, hands in her coat pocket and standing like she owned the castle. If one stood near her, they might have picked up on the aura of psionic energy that usually radiated off of her like excess heat--then again, they might not have. This place seemed to be wreaking havoc with her, she'd noted, much to her annoyance.

"What's this about renegade telepaths?" Her voice, harsh and ruined, could have been genuinely curious or borderline hostile. It was hard to tell with her, sometimes.

[chief_michael]

No gloves, no badge and no PsiCorp emblem. If she was asking with that sort of attitude, it could only mean one thing. Telepath on the run. Briefly, Garibaldi wondered if he had some sort of ‘kick me’ sign on his back.

“I mean telepaths on the run from the Corps. They tend to filter through the station and most of ‘em don’t cause a problem. It’s the ones that spend their time in the Zocalo, cheat at gambling, start fights or illegally scan people and generally make life difficult that I have to worry about. Believe me, I don’t like calling that sneaky son of a bitch Bester any more than telepaths like seeing him.”

[psycho_vertue]

If she had poked around in his head and picked up on his thoughts, she would have laughed. Diana was done running, and she was definitely not a team player.

However, she didn't make it a habit of rifling around in peoples' heads unless they gave her a reason to, so she kept her mind to herself.

"Let me guess. This Corps takes esper--telepath, whatever--kids away from their families, trains them up, puts them to work, and they get treated like tools and thrown away when they're not useful anymore." She narrowed her sharp blue eyes in consideration. "And the ones who get out of the system have to be stopped so the others don't get ideas. Am I close?"

[chief_michael]

If she had bothered to try and scan surface thoughts, the only thing Diana would have picked out were old snippets of songs or math problems running through his head. It wasn't enough to stop a deep scan by a telepath, but he was in the habit of doing it whenever he was around one. Just incase. Paranoia came with the job.

"Look lady, it wasn't my idea. PsiCorps is for all human telepaths, it's a way to keep them regulated so they don't run around scanning people whenever they choose and using the information how they see fit. I don't like PsiCops any more than anyone else, but I also don't trust the average human any further than I can drop kick them. The average telepath? Probably a little less."

"Lately John's been letting some of the rogue telepaths hide out in Down Below. They keep their head down and keep quiet, I don't have a problem. It's the ones that think they can ride all over mindblind people that I wind up having a problem with."

[entilzha_delenn]

Delenn beamed at the sight of the latest applicant.

"Mr. Garibaldi! Welcome! It is so good to see you again." She bowed slightly.

[chief_michael]

He stared at her, confused. They were on a strange world, as far as he could guess, God knows how far away from Babylon 5, and she was as serene as ever.

Secretly, Garibaldi was sure that you could have clowns running in circles around Delenn while they were on fire and she would still remain calm and unflappable. “Um, again? We were in a meeting about five minutes ago in John’s office. Delenn, what the hell is going on? Where are we? Is this one of Draal’s weird projections?”

[entilzha_delenn]

"Ahh. You are confused. This is natural." She tapped a fingertip to her chin. "Mr. Garibaldi. Do you remember how angry you were when Sinclair cut you out of a mission that involved time travel? I am afraid you are about to make up for - pardon the expression - lost time."

[chief_michael]

A frown crossed his features at the mention of Jeff Sinclair. He wasn't just angry at Jeff, he was hurt. His best friend had left him behind, without even giving him a chance to say goodbye.

Breathe in. Breathe out. The cryptic crap always drove him a little nuts.

"Yeah, I remember. But what do you mean? Did the station fall through one of those time travel.. things? Like the one that took Baylon 4?"

[iam_beowulf]

"I AM BEOWULF!" shouted a muscular blond man in an open black robe over leather briefs.

[chief_michael]

"I.." his mouth closed, opened and snapped shut again. "Anchovies. It had to be the anchovies. I had anchovies at lunch and now it's giving me weird dreams. Yeah. That's gotta be it."

He tried pinching the back of his hand. No luck. Yep, not only was the universe out to get him, it was out to screw with his head.

[iam_beowulf]

"I'M HERE TO KILL YOUR MONSTER! SMALL FISH GRANT NO DREAMS OF WYRD."

[chief_michael]

"Buddy, there aren't any monsters here. At least.. I don't think so." He looked around, "Where is here anyway?"

[ugly_old_hat]

"Pizza!" the Hat squealed. It was generally more of a baked-goods kind of accessory, but pizza was interesting. Some of its gaudier bling hung from its brim and jangled noisily as it waved in excitement. "Yes, you must make pizza!"

[chief_michael]

"Um.. ok."

He was already becoming used to the weirdness of the school, so being told by a flying hat with shiny baubles that he had to cook.. wasn't that odd. "You more a pepperoni and sausage kind of.. hat?"

[ugly_old_hat]

"Pepperoni, sausage, pineapple, zucchini, whatever's the rage these days with you kids!"

[chief_michael]

"If you can find me good pepperoni and sausage, you're on. And if the kitchen's as well stocked as I've been told, I'll throw in some bagna cauda for good measure."