It's 'night', according to the station time. It's not any different from 'day' as far as he can tell. Long corridors. Artificial lighting. What windows there were would never open. NASA gave its astronauts a full battery of psych tests for a reason. The Navy did the same for submarine operators. People weren't meant to be in boxed up with no fresh air. It drove them crazy.
In a little alcove in one of the endless hallways that snake through the space station like pixels on an old Nokia, Robbie was sitting up against the wall, keeping a weary eye on anyone that came along. The Observation Deck isn't far. It's close enough that he heard the occasional skirmish, but he ignored the stops and starts as best he could. He didn't want to think about what caused each ceasefire.
A gun rested against his calf; one hand loosely wrapped around the grip. He scavenged it off one of the invaders when it became clear that they were going to need to sleep. The weapon wasn't for him to use, though. It was meant to be a warning. Nothing said armed and dangerous like a gun, no matter what language was spoken.
Honestly, he wasn't even sure if it worked. Robbie aimed at a random spot on the wall and pulled the trigger. It fired, but his aim was about two feet off, judging by the scorch mark. It didn't matter. The gun was the suggestion of the weapon.
Robbie Baldwin | Open
In a little alcove in one of the endless hallways that snake through the space station like pixels on an old Nokia, Robbie was sitting up against the wall, keeping a weary eye on anyone that came along. The Observation Deck isn't far. It's close enough that he heard the occasional skirmish, but he ignored the stops and starts as best he could. He didn't want to think about what caused each ceasefire.
A gun rested against his calf; one hand loosely wrapped around the grip. He scavenged it off one of the invaders when it became clear that they were going to need to sleep. The weapon wasn't for him to use, though. It was meant to be a warning. Nothing said armed and dangerous like a gun, no matter what language was spoken.
Honestly, he wasn't even sure if it worked. Robbie aimed at a random spot on the wall and pulled the trigger. It fired, but his aim was about two feet off, judging by the scorch mark. It didn't matter. The gun was the suggestion of the weapon.