[center][h2][color=lightblue]PFC Kane O'Connor[/color][/h2][/center]

Today just wasn't a good day.

D'you know how Kane knew it wasn't a good day?

Well, he'd overslept, for one. Normally he didn't give two shits about oversleeping, but today he was due for a routine stores inspection. His own.

After being posted to this ragged shithole of a border camp, he'd been put straight in charge of their comms and reconnaissance stores. Binoculars, radio sets, wires, the whole nine yards. Stuff he was trained to take care of, but seriously? Some of the shit here hadn't seen action in, like, a decade. The Interum military still used wired receiver communications sets?! Seriously?!

As Kane struggled and hobbled into his uniform, he grumbled and swore to himself. Of all the fucking places in the bloody world he had to get posted to the ass end of nowhere. His fucking luck. Everyone else was definitely already awake and eating. He was always late, not like he cared, but he cared about at least keeping his shit together.

With boots tied and uniform prim and proper, he rushed towards the tiny shack they called a cafeteria for breakfast. As he barged in, he caught the tail end of the radio broadcast.

Hostiles.

A downed allied transport.

Shit and double shit.

[color=lightblue]"Fuck. I knew today was gonna be a shit day."[/color]