THE WORLD LIES IN RUINS
HIDDEN BY FALSE ILLUSIONS
HELP ME SEE THROUGH THE HAZE
The music blared at a volume approaching intrusive. If not for the modern specifications of the Galatea and the heavy modifications she'd overseen to this room's structure, it certainly would have filled the halls outside with the heavy instrumentation of the punk rock music that throbbed from the walls of Banshee's room. The Microcamera whirrs silently in its housing and takes in the scene thus;
Banshee was dressed casually in a slim tanktop overtop a form-fitting bodysuit. Her muscular frame and squared shoulders were prominently featured in this attire, and her hair curled in its perpetual wisp-state at a medium length about her shoulders in a desperate attempt to maintain a semblance of peaceful positioning as she bobbed her head from side to side with the beat of the music.
GLISTENING TOWER SPIRES
GOTTA GROW HIGHER
INFINITE CORPORATE DAZE
She murmured along with the lyrics, kneeling before the hulking mass of her armored plating. The modular system was arrayed on its arming station, waiting to be attached to the nearby Military Suit which rested on its own display. Both were wired together, the devices communicating intangibly, as Banshee shook a spray-applicator in one hand, the other tracing over a battle-gouge in the armor place that would be over her stomach on the right side.
"I see...A world...Dy-ing..." Her voice quietly intoned the choir-esque chant of the song's chorus. She brought the spray-applicator forth, and in slow and deliberate movements coated the armor plate in delicate lines of paint. For now the armor was an array of chaotic lines and unintelligible patterns, but she knew what she was doing. She'd seen the pattern arrayed in the three-dimensional overlay, and was just following her design template at this point. But the work had to be done. Her soft voice continued even as she patiently crafted a gradient shade within a delicate arc against the battle scarred armor plate; "...Of an...Assisted suicide..."
She whirled the applicator in hand and stepped back. She appraised her handiwork with a prideful air, a gentle satisfaction at completing a personal hobby goal filling her. The array of armored plating was finally done. It'd been months since her last combat scenario, and she'd decided to use that time to put some personality into her persona. She shut her eyes, her body moving subtly into the writhings of a dance before she energetically jumped into the next verse of the song, kicking a leg into the air and twirling about the room strumming at an invisible air-guitar.
WE STAND HERE IN GLASS CHAINS
SUFFERING UNSPOKEN GROWING PAINS
LET ME HELP YOU SEIZE THE DAY
THE SHADOWS OF LIFE GROW DEEPER
PRICE TAGS GROW EVER STEEPER
WE DON'T KNOW ANY OTHER WA-
"Rise and shine, crew. Get your asses to the Mission Deck in ten, gotta brief everyone before we touch down."
The captain's voice cut the music down to a whisper of background noise, and with its declining crescendo so too did Banshee decline; she groaned quietly, whirled about in place one final time, and fell back into her bed as she waved a hand and triggered her Holo to halt the music. For a few moments, the quietness surrounded and filled her. She breathed it in, the gentle smoky haze of her room filling her lungs. When she exhaled, she sat up straight and stretched her arms behind her head.
"Alright Banshee, finally got something to do." She said to herself as she peeled the tanktop off her bodysuit and approached her Pressure Suit. She stepped into its opening and felt the familiar sensation of the suit wrapping around her body, gently pulling her arms and legs into their correct positions as she rose into its interface. The helmet flared to life as the back plating sealed shut and the entire suit thrummed with life. After a moment, a loud hissing sound filled the air as the suit pressurized itself and began to regulate and circulate Thetos-Atmosphere within for Banshee's benefit. Flexing her arms within their articulated servo-joints, Banshee acclimatized instantly into the senseless interactions of her Pressure Suit. She took a single step forward, rapped her knuckles upon a nearby armor plate for good luck, and in the next step strapped her Laser Pistol to her hip.
"[Contextual Translation: People-Ender, Approach This One]" She commanded to the orb, flickering it to life with the command phrase. It rose off her bedside table in a gentle thrum of its mechanisms, then flew rapidly towards her and slotted itself into its housing at the small of her back. She never went anywhere without the Attan-ta
or pistol; business was just business, after all, and this crew was still new to her...
She stepped into the airlock to vent the toxic gas she inhabited, rolled her neck, and stepped into the unbreathable world of the Galatea.
The six-foot-eight-inch tall military suit walked its way into the Mission Deck on light footfalls. Despite the weight of the suit, Banshee was a skilled pilot of the mechanism and without the extra weight of the full set of armor she was able to wield her body's natural agility extremely well. She demurely dragged a hand along the wall, her helmet's HUD scanning and noting those already present.
"Hope I'm not late. Girl's gotta be careful these days, one wrong stroke of the brush and 'fwoosh', whole makeover's gone up in smoke." She joked, opting to rest against the wall near the door she entered. "But at least my ass arrived in one piece. I do remember that being specifically requested, captain. Sorry the rest of me had to come with."
Her movements were casual and accented by the soft sounds of complex and powerful servos maneuvering the powered suit around her limbs, and her final posture was that of crossed arms over her chest and one leg propped against the doorframe. Casual and comfortable.