There's no point in lying about it; it's with some annoyance that he recognizes the person looking back at him.
That must seem strange; after all, being able to recognize your face in the mirror was usually a good thing, right?
Not in this care.
Being able to recognize the person in the mirror did nothing but remind him of the debt he'd been working to pay off for the past four years now - a debt that he was still nowhere close to paying off.
With a sigh leaving his lips, the young man stared at his reflection a bit longer before popping the seal on his medication and turned it over to grab hold of a pill before popping it in his mouth and drowning it with sink water.
The water goes down pretty cold, in truth, it's so cold that it almost hurts.
He's actually grateful for that.
With what was done to him - with the surgeries he'd been forced to get they taking away so much from him,he was honestly grateful they left a few things behind.
Gotta appreciate those little blessings.
Without a word he wiped his lips with his sleeve, shuts off the water and turned around to see his quarters. It's a simple box-like, L-shaped room with one part being the sleeping quarters and one part being the shower stalls.
There's eight beds, well bed wasn't exactly the right word, 'coffins' or 'cubes' might be more accurate. Each 'coffin' was built into a hole in the wall; had just enough room to move around in, and hold a handful of belongings. Having a bedmate though was downright impossible.
Not that that mattered.
The coffins weren't built for comfort or for having guests over, they were meant to give people a place to rest for a few hours.
Still, with the rest period over it's… quiet here.
To be honest, that shouldn't come as much of a surprise; after all, it's always quiet here. That's how it should be. Even when the others were still here, staying in the coffins next to his, it was always quiet. Only time it got noisy was when someone was either using either the toilet, showers, or the sink, or when the voice over the speakers was calling out for one of the teams.
[Attention: Squad 13 to Hanger immediately.]
Times like now.
Taking a minute to strap on his boots and tie up his laces, the young man headed off, leaving his room before walking down the halls.
The ship he's on is built less with comfort in mind and more for efficiency. Made a bit of sense considering the fact that this thing was designed to be a military vessel, and by that he didn't mean the old Sci Fi cartoon/anime vessel. This thing feels as cold as one might expect; steel gray walls lined everything, and it leaves the impression of being more of a sealed iron box than anything.
An iron box with armor specifically made to withstand an onslaught of both direct and grazing fire, not to mention the vacuum of space.
'Space…' Letting that word echo out in his head the figure couldn't help glance to the side as he saw what rested beyond the bulletproof glass.
Space; the great expanse, that unkind vacuum that the stars scarcely cover. Man and beast alike used to look up at it, wondering just what was hidden behind the confines of the rock they called Earth. That was a long time ago though. Humanity has long since stopped dreaming about the stars.
There was no need to dream about such things anymore.
Walking into the hanger he's greeted with three giants looming over him, each one casting a shadow that seemed to block out the lights.
He knew what those shadows belonged to; the MS, the Mobile Suit.
A piece of fantasy pulled into reality; there probably wasn't a soul living or dead that didn't know what a Mobile Suit was. Once upon a time they were nothing but images trapped on a tv screen, once they were toys children just pieced together and customized to their liking.
Those were happier, simpler times.
Since the first fully automated Mobile Suit was built; since the line between fantasy and reality blurred, what joy these machines brought was replaced with an almost humbling fear.
They became the face of World War 3 and they brought the horrors once locked behind a tv screen to reality.
Cities became tombs, the skies bleed, and ocean's boiled.
That was a long time ago though.
War's over now, it's been over for a few good centuries.
All that's left are, well… these metal giants that were nothing like the machines they were meant to mimic.
The vibrant colors were absent, the armor was dented and scarred.
They were cold… so very cold.
Nothing like the machines once presented on a show.
Staring up at the three Mobile Suits for a moment, the young man let his gaze drift to one in particular - his personal Mobile Suit - and nodded his head
Looks like repairs were done, of course they were done. His handler wouldn't just call him up if Loader 3 was still in need of repairs. Without it being in operational condition, Torchwood had no use for him.
And he needed Torchwood to use him.
If his Handler didn't need him, he couldn't work.
If he couldn't work, he couldn't get paid.
If he couldn't get paid then he'd never make any headway in paying off his debt.
And he needed to pay off that debt; it was the only way he could get his life back - get his fucking name and his voice back…
Getting into debt cost him more than he was willing to probably admit…
Staring at his MS for a moment longer, 732 took a much needed breath as he walked across the hanger bridge and made for his Mobile Suit cockpit. Before he did though, he looked in the direction of the other two, watched at their eye cams flashed for a moment before he nodded, returning the look with a hand gesture that effectively translated into 'ok'. That done, he simply entered his machine, and hit the lights.
'It's a bit stuffy in here.' 732 notes, crawling into the cockpit as he grabs the helmet he had a bad habit of leaving in here.
The MS is cold outside and it's stuffy inside the cockpit. Then again when you don't vent the cockpit that often it's no surprise that it gets a bit stuffy in here at times.
Have to remember to leave the hatch open when he gets back.
If he gets back.
Fastening his helmet, 732 strapped himself into the cockpit as he started flipping switches to power on his Mobile Suit before sealing the cockpit hatch.
[MS, Main System activated]
[Generator, Radiator, FCS, All green.]
[Entering Normal Mode]
Everything online, the pilot took a moment to breathe as he rolled his shoulder as a voice broke through the comms.
[Good of you to join us 732.]
