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RP: Cirrus Station [Episode 3] Sunny Day on Prilisa Four

Fitz leaned on the wall in the hallway rubbing his eyes with his left hand, it had been a long day, "Who knew a first mission would be the first time I almost get sent off on a slave trade based on Neko's aye?" he said to himself chuckling a little.

He moved off the wall and began to walk the path to his right. He didn't know where he was going and hoped he could find some sort of place where alcohol was, he could use a drink right now.
 
For the entire trip back from the planet, Deacon remained silent and tried to keep himself apart from the others of his team. He had retrieved all of the gear he had stripped off while fighting uselessly against the nekos. He quickly had come to the conclusion that all of his training, both on Neo Kohana and in the SMoDIN, was wasted. When it came down to it, he was unable to keep all of his team safe...

This realization stung deeper than any of the wounds he sustained on the mission, of which there was a partially torn pectoral muscle from the tossing of the two nekos near the end of the engagement. Once on the shuttle, he did his best to wrap himself in tape to keep the injury from going further, and now that he was back on Cirrus, he had gone to the infirmary to get it attended to properly.

But now, now he sat in the barracks, removing the ammunition from his HHGs and carefully replaced it in the boxes in his large duffel bag. His mind was heavy with thoughts of how he had failed, doubts that he should even be here with these other specially trained soldiers. It seemed that Dream and Tweak were the most useful, and then all the Nepleslians and ID-SOLs came in a close second. But where did that leave him? He hadn't contributed anything to the mission other than just being a pack mule and decoy.

Huffing out a sigh, the Kohanian packed his guns back up, and slid his bag under the blankets at the end of his bunk. Once those had been stored, he slipped his right paw like hand beneath the matress and pulled out a katana and slipped it partially out of it's protective sheath, staring at his reflection in the blade. With a curt nod, the male slipped from his bunk and slid the strap over his shoulder.

He moved with a purpose now, sending his armor away to wherever it was that the tubes went, and then moved out of the barracks dressed in a white tee shirt and his spare pair of military issued pants, with the katana strapped to his back and paws bare to tick their claws off the floor of the station.

Deacon rolled his shoulders a few times to try and remedy the tightness in them, but quickly was reminded of why that was a bad idea when the white hot lance of pain stabbed into his chest. From that point on, the large hyena male just sulked his shoulders and padded through the halls until he came to the Grand Atrium he had seen on his walk towards his new home. As he neared the open space, there were many scientists who gave him dirty looks, after all, he was a member of the second class citizens, the security force, but one look from the very tense and pissed off male with lip curled off to show his predatory fangs, and they would back off.

When he reached his destination, he just sat down amongst some of the potted plants and trees, sitting crosslegged beneath one with his katana resting across his lap. With eyes closed, and breathing controlled and slow, the Kohanian began to pray and sing softly in meditation. He had had such a very hectic mission for his start here in the Nepleslian military, he needed to get his mind right for whatever else he woudl be asked to do. He knew what was expected of him now, and he would not fail in that again.
 
After the debriefing, Keziah had disappeared.

Security cameras would've caught glimpses of her in various parts of the station she had access to. All of them would just catch her looking down at her PDA, reading over the debriefing again and again.

Those nekos.

She wished she had killed them. Killed some at least. Taken an energy beam to their faces and sawed off those ears and their teeth. The headdress had been taken apart, and she wore bits of it in her hair now, woven into her thick curls. They jangled with each step, and people passing her by gave her odd looks, but she disappeared soon enough.

Her chest ached with each breath, less from the meds she had been given, but she used it to focus herself. Give herself something else to ignore so she could keep reading the debrief.

For the fifteenth time.

On her bunk was the remains of the headdress. Whatever was too big or uncomfortable, she had left behind, and taken the smaller bits into her hair.

The slavery bothered her. What bothered her more was the fact that someone had rigged this up. That it had been designed to happen. It made her want to punch someone.
 
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