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She’d powered through her meal and gotten out fairly quick; jobs usually started not long after the call went out and she wanted to run by the place she’d ‘appropriated’ a few months back. At one point before the bombings it must have been a nice little place, tucked away over the once high end tailors shop.

She’d found the place purely by chance, breaking in to the abandoned shop to sleep off a serious drinking binge. The next morning while fighting the hangover, she’d stumbled up a set of stairs in the back to the locked door of an abandoned flat. After forcing the door, she found the place absolutely untouched and still fairly weather tight. A quick root around showed that whomever had lived there had left rapidly, most likely just after the bombs went off.

Since that day, Monkia had moved out of the iffy place she’d been renting, and into the old flat; along the way beefing up security and laying a few traps to keep scavengers away. Now she hustled through the streets, ducking into an alleyway that led to a hidden entrance; in this day and age, a civvie ducking into an alley was asking for trouble, but the local gangs knew better than to fuck with a woman in combats, carrying a GPMG. Dodging her traps, she slipped into the building and up the stairs into her place.

She dind have a whole lot there, a few changes of clothes both work and civvie, a few personal mementos, bits of gear, and a stash of ammo. Snagging her mask, a couple of extra belts that she tossed into a pack, and a full water bladder, she locked up and headed for the CDA base she’d been messaged about just as she’d gotten home.

----

Gear all strapped down and ready, Monika strode through the bustling facility towards the helipad. Waiting at the gate was a woman with a clipboard, waiting for CDA’s newest contractors. “HERE FOR THE JOB?” The woman shouted over the noise.

[colour=828216][b]“NO, JUST WINDOW SHOPPING.”[/b][/colour] She shouted back with a smirk. The other woman merely rolled her eyes and made a mark on her clipboard before ushering Monika into the holding area. Once she was outfitted with her new temp ID, the ‘greeter’ headed back to her post and Monika went to find somewhere to sit and wait for whoever else was coming along.

Dropping into a seat near Larson, she began doing a gear check, looking for faults (real or imagined), before hefting her UKM onto her lap to do a field strip and clean, even though the MG was spotless.