arren’s eyes slowly opened as he began to gain his senses, his body ached all over from the extensive work the crew put him through the previous day. He felt like stirring, yet his lids had other intentions and remained shut. After gathering enough motivation to rise from his bed, he stood up and let out a yawn. He ran his hand through his messy hair, bleached as white as snow. Sliding to his left, Varren got up once he managed a stable footing, waking up was an extraneous task for the young adult. Even though he rarely acted like one, since he recently turned eighteen, he felt the need to be more mature. Though his fellow guards’ views of him would never change or differentiate from what they saw him as today; a young individual who was good at making conversation, and kept a generally cool head. A lost boy without a family, who was able to weasel his way in between the bonds which the three other men shared. Though the job didn’t have that high of a pay, it was enough to cover the ammunition costs and food when the ship stopped at destinations. He looked to his desk, a metal surface with an angled lamp sitting on it, bullet casings were scattered on the workspace. His clothing was hung on the back of a wooden chair. Yinyues had no intentions to leave the room in just his boxers and quickly dressed himself in his usual apparel; a black hoodie which perfectly fit him, and a pair of jeans of the same pigment. Then, he draped a grey backpack over his shoulder. “Eh, should be a normal morning... I'll just pack a few magazines.” The bag which used to carry school supplies and books was now used to transport STANAG magazines, it was a little beaten up and was punctured with a few holes.

As he was clamping on the metallic “laces” which fastened his feet tightly to his magnetic boots, a notification popped up on his monitor. The screen was blinking read and eminated a consistent, annoying beeping noise. This form of announcement was only used for emergencies. Varren shot up from his sitting position and jumped to the other side of the room, swiftly opening the message, his eyes darted across the screen. [b]”Emergency landing on the island of Krukow. Brace yourselves, caution is advised.”[/b] The message was sent by the Free Wind’s captain, Summer. It resounded of her straight to the point personality. Varren glanced back at a specific drawer in the desk, labeled [b]LETHAL[/b]. He traded out a majority of the less-than lethal rounds for the deadlier caliber and stormed out of the room. The FsW-24J Tecpatl was clipped to his hoodie, with a magazine already loaded and chambered.

By the time the Free Wind landed, in its wake lay the remnants of a forest. As Varren approached the bay, he heard multiple curses echoing throughout the halls of the ship. The young man let out a sigh, he then threw on his usual greeting smile. Once he arrived at the open space, he watched as Weston leaped from the bay and landed with grace. No other man of Weston’s age and figure could land so lightly and with such ease. Summer was glaring furiously at the aura generator, which Varren deduced was the source of their problem. Heizo was also waltzed over to the bay, his Zephyr X-2 in hand. “Good morning you two. My fellow guards are currently under the weather, as they all ate some bad food at our last stop. Though they came back, preaching that the dinner was delicious, their stomachs seem to disagree.” He turned his gaze towards the town, in the direction which Weston was heading. “I’ll go help out Mr. Weston, nothing much for me to do here.” As Yinyues finished his sentence, a blue light illuminated from his boots, “Be back in a bit~” Varren said in a cheery voice as threw himself, legs first, over the balcony. His feet were instantly attracted to the metal which made up the ship, he then proceeded to run down the side of the hull until he reached the ground. He disengaged his boots and propelled himself onto the grassy surface, then ran through the forest. 

Weston hadn’t made it too far, it was easy for him to catch up with the middle-aged man. The man whipped around, faced with a white-haired boy running to him. Varren came to a halt and kindly greeted the comrade, “Hello, Mr. Weston. I guess our objective is to find somebody who can fix our ship? I’m at your service.” Thought it was a little formal, the two were already used to the way Yinyues greeted people. The two were about to continue their trek to the town when they heard rustling through the treeline. Varren instinctively readied his firearm, in a flash he had his Tecpatl leveled and aimed in the direction of the sound. The man seemed to acknowledge their presence, but simply passed them instead of striking a conversation, [i]”He’s only got an instrument. Not a threat.”[/i] He lowered his PDW and sighed, "Let's continue on, we have to find that mechanic, fast." He heard a commotion off in the distance, "Something is happening over there."