[colour=teal][sub][i]January 12 2079[/i][/sub][/colour][hr]
[Colour=lightgray]Thundering vibrations shook the walls. Springing from his bed as if reanimated, Artem’s shock quickly receded as his eyes regained their glazed no interest. His hand crumpled the cigarette packet he first thought to reach for, none left. Taking a large breath his lungs filled with the musky cold air of his apparetment before climbing from his slumber. Clattering a fist against the wall with a grunt of displeasure, the music was quickly turned down. Another thud interrupted the patter of bare foot on tile, the moment Artem punched the shower button steaming water spewed forth. Pushing a hand over his buzz-cut head he took a other deep breath. He leant on the button before grabbing a towel, pausing for a moment as the pipes audibly ached. Artem’s morning shower was more of a wake up than a hygiene routine. Before long he was dressed. A bag across his back, scarf wrapped around his neck, he had to adjust the beanie to better protect his ears but Artem was already out the door. 

At this time of morning the streets of St. Petersburg seemed almost deserted. Artem blew through the trails of steam floating away from the few shops open this early, his face displaying all the colours of neon thrown at him as he walked by. The sun, low in the sky, brought about an almost painful sense of reality. It's heat contrasting the snow his feet had to wade through. The little shipyard that Artem worked for, Zero-One, was subtle in its nature. Easy enough to find, if one were to look for it, but in amongst the taller buildings and overstated advertising bilboards it's an easy miss too. Reaching the elevator Artem clasped the iron frames together as it jerked into life, it's single measly purpose to climb this tower.

[center]---[/center]
[indent][i]Later that day…[/i][/indent]

Sprocket wrench in hand and chin raised high Artem shoved his hand between the pipes. The shop had several small cameras capable of reaching the claustrophobic innards of an engine, yet Artem prefered to feel his way around. Every expression of frustration and hope managed to cross his face before he pulled himself back out. The wrench crashed back amongst it's peers as the oil from his fingertips was wiped clean. Relief was next as he flicked an LED switch, the green light signifying a job done.

“[/colour][Colour=Teal]Artem![/colour][Colour=lightgray]”

The unmistakable voice turned his head immediately. Gesturing for Artem to follow him Oleg walked the width of the bay, with a push of the oxidized metal door he stood in the adjacent motor pool. Artem pushed the tool draw closed, not forgetting to grab his fresh pack of cigarettes before walking through the open door. With another instructive gesture Oleg asked a young woman to join them on the shop floor. Watching as she hovered down on the dolly Artem smirked at her apparent irritation. Raising the packet to his face his lips loosely plucked a cigarette free. Rummaging around his overall pouch for a lighter the white stick was snatched from his mouth. 

“[/colour][Colour=Teal]Not in shop.[/colour][Colour=lightgray]”

By the tone of his voice this wasn't Artem’s first offence, but the look of a disciplined boy faded quickly as he saw the girl approach. She was staring, presumably at his prosthetics. Artem watched her watch him as long as their eyes didn't meet, he noted their grey colour. 

“[/colour][Colour=Teal]We have a shuttle coming in. Top of the line Royce. I need you both on it.[/colour][Colour=lightgray]”

Always a man of few words, Oleg was on his way as soon as he had arrived. Turning his head back Artem could still feel her eyes scanning him. Pulling yet another cigarette from his packet, placing it between his lips, Artem extended a hand as the corners of his mouth curled in a friendly measure.

“[/colour][Colour=Teal]Dzagoev, Artem.[/colour][Colour=lightgray]”[/colour]