Home Sweet Home

Marco opened to cold Steel door. grey always grey he though before he smiled it woundn't be the same if the base wasnt the bland base colours that it always had been. Looking round hew followed to banks of stip lights down the long room with lockers ether side containing his tools of his trade, and what a trade he had killing ans miaming the creatures of the darkeness or at lest creating better weapons to.

Walking over to the end of the Room he opened up the preesed steel door of the weapons locker befor etwisting the latching mecanism to the left and inspecting to Rack of FN P90s all stored in mounting pins and their mags boxed up on the floor underneath them before closing the door, To small for his liking he turned to the next one befor grining the Proweler, one of his firing 0.45 inch Micro RPGs he sure made a mess but the recil on them ment most soldiers opted of for useing them. Picking one up Marco ranlked to slide back out of habbit checking the chambers empty befor ewe started to wonder over to his work bench.

Clamping the Prowler in to series of vices Marco slowly ran his hands over to body work un-screwing the bolts of the fore hand grip and the top hand guar exposing the powdere coated barrel. With a swift twist he started to unscrew the barrel from the resiver and placed in on the table next to him as he checked over the loadig chamber, keeping a eye out for grit and dirt in it mechonism. Taking an extened Barrel from the rack next to the tools on the wall Macro looked down it letting his cybernnetic eye out line att the twists in the barrel making sure they were with in 0.01 mm of tollerance before he started to screw the new Barrel in.

Looking at the party builted gun it was about a meter 25 long Shorter than most Sniper rifles but they wouldnt be firing 0.45 inch fin stablerlised MRPGs
Lettign out a light Marco Picked up a electric file and started to work on the resiver, this was going to be a fun night.

The armoury was quickly becoming one of her more favourite parts of the base, her tutors never tried to find her here and it made Grace feel a part of her father’s life. She had been practising with the P90 recently and the M9, hadn’t earned the right to take it upon missions yet, or go upon missions yet. However the Beast of Faildorn mission was coming up soon and although she was going strictly as a study, she urged to see some action at the very least.

As always the walk to the armoury was one filled with plenty of bystanders taking her time, everyone liked to speak to Grace. Her existence was one of strange legend now, the three year old teenager as she was called in some circles. It was a weird life at the best of times, but the armoury let her shut off from the rest of life and enjoy recording her scores on the leader board. She was far beyond the academics now but still pretty far behind seasoned veterans like Malfice and Katelyn.

Walking into the armour showed her a face she had never met before, although strangely familiar. A hulking figure examining many guns with a sort of playful look, as if they were more than just an occupation. These times always made Grace marvel at people to see them so into different aspects of life, she couldn’t wait to find something that she would enjoy as much.

“Hello” Grace stated with her typical polite approach, bred into her by her mother “My name is Grace… is erm… the armoury open?”

'Marco' and the beers should be in the top curboard of the M4 rack.' Marco replyed to the Grace not even looking in her direction as he discareded the old chamber bolt and replacing it with a fine tuned one ,And wehenyour up mine will be a fosters, only somthing light for me.' He half smiled as he worked to part in to place, the only thing bad about the armopury is the fact that all the newbies seemed to head here to shot shit. Turning around Marco eyed up the kid, 'so civvie of freshes meat?' he asked.

'Marco' and the beers should be in the top cupboard of the M4 rack.'

Grace almost froze in place suddenly at the thought of a beer, her mother would summon the great demons from hell if she ever caught her with the devil’s ale. Her father, surprisingly, was even more harsh when the factor came up. Especially when she asked about the flask that never left his side. Even her physical form was under the limit, but while she was here she was going to have a quick go. Her curiosity always won nowadays so there wasn’t really a point fighting it.

‘And when your up mine will be a fosters, only something light for me.'

She knew what a Foster’s was, despite not tasting the sweet liquor previously she had seen plenty of soldiers order them in the common room. There was a few different sets of beer there, she had settled on a Budwieser. Taking the pair of beers out of the cooler, she placed the Fosters on the bench closest to Marco and sat back a little. He was obviously a pro shooter much like her father.

'so civvie of freshes meat?'

“Hmm?” Grace responded while looking upwards, as she had been taken by surprise “No I’m not, My parents work here”

Grace walked over towards the P90, the main gun that she had been practising with for quite some time. She remembered what her father had said to her, short controlled bursts and to squeeze the gun into the shoulder. Although the P90 didn’t have much recoil in comparison to an assault rifle, Grace was getting pretty good. She tapped on the banner on the scoreboard, she ranked 34th at the moment but in a base full of hardened soldiers that was pretty good. It also showed her name in full, Grace Roberts-Andersson.

'Anderson's kid then?' Marco replyed not taking his eyes of the refined metal work infront of him as he tinkered with with it, 'are kids allowed to play with guns now?' Marco wasn't a straight shooter but last he heard Anderson's kid was old enought to hold a bottle let alone a gun, but hey he had cybernectic implants way above Mil Spec so what could he say.
Pushing the barrel back in to place Mraco picked up the gun he had been working on and pulled it out its vice, it still neded work but it needed sum testing as well, looking over his shoulder for the first time Marco turned to Grace, 'Fancey being the second person to shot this gun girl?' he commented as he stood up and walked towards the test range.

"MARCO BLOODY HILTON! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHERE IS YOUR BROTHER?"
Anya screamed out as she marched into the armoury. Fed up of being alone she went to seek out company. Walking into the lock up she spied Marco and Grace. "Put that alcohol down Grace, your parents will kill you!" Anya was shocked at th sight of them drinking. "Marco, she's 3 years old, how bloody irresponsible are you going to be when this kid is born?" She questioned him, pointing to her stomach. It wasn't his child, but she doubted that Grace knew that. Anya took the beer from Marco and straightened out his arm. "Upgrades mister, that means no drinking whilst I do it, or before I do it. I'm working on your eye too. Got something interesting I want to try out. Might give you the x-ray vision like you see in the movies. Right through a woman's clothing."
That wasn't the real upgrade, but Marco wouldn't be happy if he knew what she was really going to do.