Stretching his jaws wide until they ached, the blond cyborg felt his artificial muscles retract and expand after several hours spent dormant. One would normally think that replacing most of your body with massive collections of precisely grown fibers would relive morning stiffness. However, the technology that whirred and buzzed underneath his rubbery skin was meant for military use; meant for combat. The only advantage to being cyborg from the lower jaw down was not having to shave every morning.
Of course, if he had grown some visible facial hair some ten years earlier, perhaps the president of the United States wouldn't have groped him.
Someone pushed open the door and threw a silk pillow at Raiden's face. Involuntarily, the tubing of his bloodstream flooded with manufactured adrenalin and various other stimulants, initiating an unnecessary combat-high. Groaning at the bug his company's cybernetics expert had neglected to fix while upgrading his exoskeleton, he let himself flop back down on the bed, holding the pillow up to his face.
"C'mon bud, we're gonna miss breakfast if you don't start haulin' ass".
Raiden grunted and removed the pillow, allowing him full view of Kevin who grinned and proceeded to throw a second pillow at his roommate. However, the earlier adrenalin rush left Raiden slightly more alert, and he was able to catch the projectile and whip it back at his friend, who snickered and tossed it onto the sofa a few feet away. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing a few strands away from his eyes and stretched again, running his joints through their full range of motions before finally getting out of the bed.
The hotel room was simple, but probably the best the nation had to offer after so long embroiled in conflicts between tribal, military, and political leaders. They had a larger room to begin with- a gift from N'mani after a few months of work in the country- divided into two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small living room. The walls all had photos or paintings of famous landmarks, some of which weren't even located in the country, and the wallpaper was a soft tan color with various stripes and other patterns adorning each room.
Of course, he also had to settle the roommate issue. Though Raiden often considered Kevin his closest friend in Maverick, sharing a hotel room with the guy was much different than chatting with him by the company water cooler. He often acted like a kid, pulling off things like he did with the pillows. Normally Raiden wouldn't accept that without a punch or two in retaliation, and Kevin damn well knew it.
He also snored. Loud.
The cyborg groped around in the small, oak dresser for a few moments before pulling out a blue t-shirt with the Maverick stallion proudly displayed across the front. Most PMC's just had their logo printed across the cyborgs themselves, to be worn around like a tattoo you made the mistake of getting while in college. Boris settled for a shirt; it's easier to explain to Rose.
By the time Raiden had dressed and briefly combed through his mane of platinum hair, Kevin had just finished lacing his boots, which he kept polished to a ridiculous sheen.
"Mornin' princess", he teased
Raiden grunted and pulled a hoodie off of a peg by the door. Several different articles weighed down the tiny wooden extrusion, including some formal attire neither of them had bothered to hang up properly the night before, partially because they were drunk, and partially because they were lazy.
Regardless, Kevin didn't wait for his cybernetic companion. Instead, he rushed out the door, likely to get a spot in the dining hall before all of the morning zombies shambled in.
Raiden sighed and took the moment of privacy to pull out a simple brush to comb out his tangle of hair more thoroughly than before. It was his feminine side acting during these moments; Rose sure as hell found it amusing. Even his friends found it amazing that his hair could stay as straight as it did without a week's worth of hair gel or gaining sentience. Laugh all you want; a man's got to look professional. Stuffing a few nutrition packs into his pocket, he headed out the door.
That's probably one of the reasons Kevin was always the first to leave; that door had the rubix cube of all locks.
Raiden found Kevin waiting by the elevators. Knowing him, he'd probably been waiting there the entire time. True to his theory, the shorter man glanced up at Raiden's static-charged hair and snickered before punching the button to call the elevator.
"You know I'm just pulling your leg, man", he said as the doors to the cramped lift slid closed.
"Eh", Raiden rubbed one of his eyes and yawned, exposing the grey muscle fiber that formed his lower jaw around his gums.
Kevin smiled and turned his attention back to the doors as they stepped out into the lobby. Maverick employees were scattered around, chatting with civilian guests or staff. A few members of the dawn patrol were lounging about, either stopping by the kitchen for a snack or heading straight to bed after a long night.
Raiden walked routinely to the dining hall, returning greetings from other members of the PMC. By now, the strange breed of humans who managed to wake up at 6 am fresh as a daisy had all filed out to their posts, leaving behind the more normal people.
Kevin turned and waved to someone across the room. Adjusting his eyesight, Raiden managed to pick out Courtney who had saved them a few seats at a more secluded table. She was picking at some foreign pastry, but seemed more interested in her coffee.
"So, what's the schedule today boys?" she asked as they walked over.
"Same shit I do everyday. Boring corporate bullshit and pissing off the cyborg in desperate need of a few dryer sheets".
Raiden growled and rubbed his shirt before lightly poking Kevin's shoulder, sending a shock of static electricity into the other man's arm. Kevin snorted, some mix of irritation and condescending laughter.
Raiden turned and shrugged. "I'm doing more combat training today. I swear, some of the soldiers I'm working with wouldn't know what to do with a machete if it hit them between the eyes". He groaned slightly at the memory of teaching the eager soldiers how blades were sharp and therefore dangerous.
"I don't think anyone can do much if a machete hit them between the eyes." By now, Kevin was just barely holding back his laughter, a slight cackle breaking his speech with each word. Raiden just grunted in response; he'd no desire to help form the next punch line.
Courtney sighed at their antics and returned to sipping her coffee. Boys were boys and men were still boys. It seemed that they had given up on their little staring contest and Kevin had picked out a muffin from the platter in the center of the table.
Raiden pulled out one of his nutrition packs and tore open the top, exposing the gelatinous substance inside. Kevin snickered. Raiden and Courtney looked at him, silently demanding an explanation. He just shook his head and covered his mouth to hide his grin.
Raiden shrugged and gulped down the cyborg equivalent to cafeteria mystery meat, sighing as the taste hit his sensors.
"You replaced this with toothpaste again didn't you?"