"Regardin' Pacifica"

[Jayenbee]

Pacifica Base, 02:44 Local Time.

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Not an uncommon sight, smoking his usual cheap cigar, Niska trudges through Pacifica's corridors, his heavy boots hammering against the deck of the station. Giving a grunt and wary glance to the various technicians working late to keep the place together with nano-tape, sweat and prayers, he punches in his authorisation code to the VIP Headquarters, which promptly flashes with brightly coloured text.

ACCESS DENIED

Shaking his head and giving a dejected sigh, he prods the terminal with a metallic finger, hailing whomever resides inside.

"Niska here."

His voice is deep and hoarse.

"Gunna let me in? My codes ain't workin' again."

Standing there, still puffing away on his dwindling stick of synthetic tobacco, he stares at the terminal with a bemused gaze, expecting the built in camera to be functioning. Wouldn't surprise him if not.

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Oberarbeiter
Kalle Niska

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When contending with a monster, you'd be wise to give the devil his due.