[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220116/d33b95e9e4754ca682156e288cf03fee.png[/img][/center] [indent][indent][indent][color=gray][sub][right][color=8D3A05][b]Location:[/b][/color] Crew Bunk, Fortuna [color=8D3A05][b]|[/b][/color] In Transit[/right][/sub][/color] [hr] [color=gray]”Remember, an Exoframe isn’t going to win many battles. Pilots win battles. My job isn’t to turn you into good pilots. Good pilots fight for the corpos, the governments and for planetary defense systems. Piloting for the Raiders makes you one of the best.”[/color] Herax Singh stood in front of the line of young men and women; mostly backwater folk that he’d gathered upon his travels. They’d come far enough to warrant a [i]bit[/i] of his time. He walked the rank and file, eyeing up each one before he stopped to face Marlowe. The boy’d been with the Raiders three months and actually showed promise in piloting. But he was as green as a Rack’s Backside on Tevlac VI. [color=gray]“Let’s see how quickly you can prep up for combat.”[/color] Singh turned and pointed at the large Exoframe behind him. In large black paint, it read [b]BUCKET[/b]. [color=gray]“You got thirty seconds to get that ‘frame moving or you’ll scrub the latrines with your toothbrush for the week.”[/color] [color=8D3A05]“Sir!”[/color] Marlowe jumped quickly at attention, his heart racing. Failing in front of so many new recruits would be bad, but letting down Mr. Singh would be the worst feeling possible. After all, he owed the man his life. Herax took out a rusty, metallic object from his person and opened it. It was a pocket watch. An honest-to-god, working pocket watch. [color=gray]“Go!”[/color] Marlowe ran. [hr] [i]BEEP BEEP BEEP[/i] Marlowe shot up straight, as the music of his [url=https://youtu.be/qK2NQiaG1Wo]alarm[/url] filled his ears. It was time for his shift. He grumbled, getting ready. He took a pulse shower, brushed his teeth, threw on his gear, and made his way down the hall towards what could be considered “Ops” for the Fortuna. Maybe he could do some cleaning and repairs for Bucket’s weapon systems-[color=FF7CB6]“Fuck you!”[/color] annnnd Marlowe decided to carry on towards the mess. He grabbed a tray and held it under the food processor. Cheap, grey food cubes fell onto the tray. [color=8D3A05]“Right. I forgot we don’t have the credits for the good stuff,”[/color] he muttered to himself. He took a bite out of the food cube, and it tasted [i]off.[/i] [color=8D3A05]”Hurkk..”[/color] he grunted forcing it down before washing it down with some recycled water. They really needed to make some good cash, sooner than later. Otherwise, he’d die of botulism long before they got blown up or killed in some backwater dust-up. [/indent][/indent][/indent]