[color=f6989d][b][u][h3] G A Z E [/h3][/u][sup]A K A :   R A C H A E L    M O R T O N [/sup][/b][/color]
Rachael laid on the train station bench staring up at the sky with one leg on the seat itself and the other placed perpendicular across her thigh with the sole of her shoe tapping away at the back rest. She was comfortable, looking up at the clouds above at the storm that was brewing over the team. The faint shots of lightning began to crack across the sky in a gentle glow with a rumble that announced that a storm was coming. It was almost as if the gods above in their pearly greatness were beginning to start a heavenly rave party and the people on the land below were the unlucky neighbours that had to deal with this disturbance.

The only problem with this scenario with Rachael was that she couldn't see what was really going on in front of her. For her the sky just looked like a grey mass with blurs of light appearing occasionally. She could see what direction the storm was moving thanks to the bursts of energy, but her vision itself remained fixated on an invisible, central point. The whole idea of moving her eyes around to focus on individual events was pointless these days. Useless energy with diminished results, even if it was a fraction of that energy used to turn those glazed over irises.

[color=f6989d][i]Gaze, Gaze, Gaze. Not Rachael Morton, The name is Gaze[/i][/color]

Within her thoughts she kept repeating the same line over and over in an attempt to recreate that identity of hers. This was her first big mission as a Diver with all her previous work being small jobs that were used to put her name out there, and she needed to get used to the idea that her name was not that which her vile parents gave her but that of which she earned. Rachael never really picked the name. It just kind of stuck when she was on an early job and someone mentioned to her about the vacant look that she had. Before that, all she had to go by was some hexadecimal code until a name could be locked in for future jobs.

So there was Gaze, lounging about and feeling the pressure change of the atmosphere around her as the skies began to dribble with spits of rain. It pulled her out of that zen like trance when a droplet hit her on the cheek and naturally she blinked her eyes in protection. Turns out old habits die hard and even if she happened to get her memory wiped she was betting that her body would still naturally perform this reaction.

Crash announced the 10 minute mark almost on cue with the rain starting which in turn signalled Gaze to beginning prepping herself for boarding the high speed locomotive. Kicking her foot against the back rest, she spun herself upwards and sat there for a brief moment as she leaned down towards her rifle that was resting on the ground beneath her, her hands fumbled around the hard surface as she felt the concrete ground. She was sure she placed it just next to where her feet were but upon reaching a little further back she felt the cold metal of the stock. [color=f6989d][b]"I remember now..."[/b][/color] she muttered to herself recalling that she heard some English speaking guy walk past her bench earlier with his foot clipping the edge of her gun. She knew it was still there as she would have heard the weapon being picked up and the bench was up against a wall, so no chance of someone sneaking it out from the other side, but it was just one of those fuzzy brain moment when the girl forgot for a second about an earlier, minor event.

Upon picking up her rifle and placing it on her lap, Gaze heard the offer of a canned alcoholic beverage to which she held out her hand and felt the icy cold cylinder land within her grasp. She twisted the can around and gave it a couple of hard flicks on the top with her finger, an old wives tale that people believed in helping prevent the contents from foaming up and out of the opening. Whether or not it was true was one thing, but the evidence seemed to point in the positive direction when she cracked opened the can and heard the gentle hiss of a safely diffused hand grenade. 

[color=f6989d][b]"Cheers,"[/b][/color] Gaze spoke, lifting her drink up above her head before bringing it back down and too her lips. She took a sip, feeling the drink flow down her throat. Was it a larger or an ale? She couldn't really tell. To her it was alcohol and it was just yet another substance to abuse in her free time. [color=f6989d][b]"Have to ask..."[/b][/color] speaking between the sips of drink, [color=f6989d][b]"with there being, what, six, seven, eight(?) of us... are they expecting some of you to not make it back alive?"[/b][/color] her tone was condescending, as if toying with the possible survival rate of some of these chosen Divers. [color=f6989d][b]"Seems awfully much to have so many Cybered up people for a simple delivery job."[/b][/color]

Gaze shrugged, knowing her words [i][b]could[/b][/i] cause some minor conflict between the others, but it was a good way for her to judge every character. After all she couldn't visually see them too well and only really had the voices to go off.