Bulwark Multi-Role Star Base
Docking Bay 4
First Lenz, then Lexine were allowed clearance, the procedure quick and expedited as the IPG oft had. No one dared try to step in front of anyone that pinged back with certain qualifications. Just the IPG branch alone, without verifying the user's job, was enough to generally grant them immediate passage through checkpoints. It was why traitors was such an absurd idea, as Nepleslia couldn't afford to let those with such clearance outside of their reach for too long without stripping and burning them of their status.
Not that any of that mattered, as they traversed the halls of the Bulwark and moved across the transfer hall and boarded along with other crew. Other IPG arrived aboard the ship, preparing to head off to their stations to meet with their assigned heads. Everyone aboard a Malchick had jobs to do. And as they neared the armory, no doubt running close enough to determine they'd be working together, they could see someone head into the armory not but a few seconds before them.
NSS Ajax
Armory
One individual was already there, even as their new commanding officer entered, though they'd be seeing what he saw. A single man sitting on one of the armory's seating benches, gently carving away with the
trademark axe of the Nepleslian military at the black helmet of a Raider. While most people would carve away at the visor, chipping away at the thing that keeps them from breathing oxygen, this Jiyuuian-bodied Nepleslian was using its pick-end to drag and tap away, slowly but surely drawing a toothy grin in the metal that was left with a faded and bruised lighter white. Realistically, it wouldn't make them any easier to spot given the amount of technology that went into the suit. The only ones who would see the armored snarling suit would be those who stepped far too close.
It was to send a message of sheer intimidation.
The black-haired, dark-skinned man looked up from his work one-by-one, finally turning the axe over and resting it across his newly-finished helmet after Juan entered. Green eyes clashed hard with his dark skin, the tell-tale sign of a custom-picked body more than likely.
"They just make them younger and younger, with less mettle than the last time, huh?"
It was a comment aimed purely at the newbie, the cybernetic suite humming to life within his cranium as he quickly learned everything his cybermind could attribute about the newbie. Confidential records meant there wasn't much, but the IPG commandos learned to assess their friends and foes off one or two words. Especially ones that lived as long as Harm did. But rather than poke fun or feign that he cared or was simply joking, the man turned his gaze back down to the helmet. Driving the axe down and into the armored floor, he returned the helmet to his side... beside a lot of grenades that looked as if they had been deconstructed and were being checked over internally.
A lot of them. At least enough to likely blow up the armory if they somehow went off.