The hustle and bustle of the busy neo-tokyo streets was a constant strain on the senses, a veritable storm of sensations that never stopped. It was enough to drive anyone insane, if they were forced to live in it for days on end. Perhaps that was the reason why buildings crept higher and higher into the sky, as if to escape the mire of noise that rose up from below. In contrast to the busy bar on the ground floor of the building, the 20th floor was mercifully quiet, for the most part. Joseph's room, however, was filled with the sound of grunting.

Pushups, situps, squats, he went through the whole routine. PT was a time honored tradition of the military, it promoted fitness, self-discipline and sharpened the mind. Or so the drill sergeant had told him; he was pretty sure his superior officers just used the time to bully fresh recruits. He usually did his training in the morning, but who really knew what time was morning in the city that never slept? With one last grunt of exhertion Joseph finished his last pushup and rolled over onto his back, breathing hard.

As he calmed his breathing the quietness of the room returned. If he strained his senses hard enough he'd be able to hear a little of the music bubbling up from the ground floor, though he didn't feel the need to do so. On any other day Joseph would have loved to go down and mingle with the rest, have some alcohol and relax a little. But not tonight. There was a meeting tonight, and that meant there would be a mission soon. He needed to keep his mind clear and his senses sharp. For example, the feeling in his stomach told him that he was hungry, and the acrid stench stinging his nose told him that he was smelly and covered in sweat. Joseph chuckled quietly to himself before getting onto his feet and going towards the showers.

One quick wash and change later he was back in his usual clothes, a worn green polo and camouflaged cargo pants. Old habits died hard, after all. He sauntered over to the kitchen to grab a snack, opening a random drawer and picking out a packet of savoury biscuits. As he munched them down he briefly wondered what the rest of the crew was up to. They weren't the most sociable bunch by any means and some of the members were quite standoffish, but they were mostly good people. That made it harder, in a way. Death was the sword of damocles that hung over all conflicts, and Joseph, with his many years of military service, couldn't help feeling its shadow today. But he quickly shrugged it off. Things were heating up between the gangs but they probably wouldn't get that violent so soon. After all, didn't everyone just want to stay alive?

Joseph slowly realised his vision had multiplied. With a frown of annoyance he closed his eyes, the 2 on his face, the 1 on his forhead, the myriad others that dotted his body as well. It was easy for him to forget about his many eyes once his mind wandered. He opened his 2 eyes once again and chucked the used wrapper into the bin. Pre-battle blues were inevitable for an old hand like him but there was no need to worry so much. No matter what came ahead he was about as prepared as he would ever be.