[hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Iy3wznf.png[/img]
[h1][color=f7941d]Port Algec[/color][/h1][h3][color=f26522]Base Entrance -> Mess Hall[/color][/h3][/center][hr]
[color=#f4be0f]
"We, as loyal soldiers of the Empire, are on the verge of making history here. To take on the final frontier is no easy feat. It takes will, talent, preparation, guns, men to fire those guns, and a [i]lot[/i] of food to feed those men."[/color] At least that's what Roose had justified to the MP officer guarding the gates upon returning back to Port Algec in a muddy military jeep that was in pristine condition when he took it out. While the usage and state of the vehicle did not leave much to be desired, the broken standard-issue rifle prominently displayed on the passenger seat and the dead wild boar (with its rotting tongue sticking out and attracting flies) strapped in the back seats did not do him any favors. Luckily for our unscrupulous hunter, the guard merely shook his head before handing Roose paperwork which marked his wild game meat as procured rations that need to be reported to the officer in charge of food storage. With a smile and a nod, he gleefully drove off. 

The ease of this interaction was mostly due to the fact that a ton of resources were already pouring in from all over the Empire into Port Algec and the administrative process had already been streamlined since, presumably, the last thing the Empire needed would be for a logistical challenge to ground to a halt its grand ambitions to reclaim space. Every day a parade of crates labelled such as food, ammunition, electronics, and even laundry soap would be shipped in via trucks and naval convoys. While the supply corps who handled and unloaded the crates already knew of each delivery's destination, the newly returning Carius had no clue where not-so-fresh pork would go. However, if the obvious answer was the correct one, food would go to the mess hall. Thanks Occam's Razor. 

Hence why he stopped directly in front of the common grunt's favourite building, narrowly missing a schmuck being stretchered out along the way. Unfortunately for Roose, no one was there to help him carry his deadweight from the back of his borrowed jeep. With the foul stench getting worse under the hot Iberian sun, he was quick to rush in and try to find any soul kind or gullible enough to help. As he entered the hall, there wasn't really anyone there that stood out as either of those. Bored and exhausted sure but neither of those qualities in a person indicated that they could be schmoozed to carrying a pig into the proverbial pantry. He would continue to aimlessly wander around before spotting the perfect mark. This kid had pushover written all over him, Roose thought. Sure, he needed a bit more muscle to haul that hog out of the jeep but beggars can't be choosers. As he got closer to tap him on the shoulder, the following words had been uttered which threw off the troublesome Tadmoore's scheme. 

[color=a187be]"I'm [i]Centurion[/i] Tyr Fin. Callsign Kraken. Your new superior. You can start by explaining yourself and who that... Soldier was."[/color]

[color=#f4be0f][i]Aw fuck[/i][/color] he thought. With his mind racing, Roose had to figure something out and quick. So, he blurted out the first thought that came to mind. 

[color=#f4be0f]"Sir, Carius Roose Tadmoore reporting in! I did not drive to this location and there is no wild boar at the back of the vehicle that I did not use!"[/color]