Gedin'la : Almost Insane

Yaim'ol

From outside the barracks, he could hear laughing.

"Oh, ne'johaa , Sinker! I had to carry you last time, so don't even start about how I got my scar-!"

"So, listen to this Hook- this dumbass and I are walking back from the showers, okay? And we're walking and talking and shooting the shit, then this fucker sees a rail. He looks at me and he says 'You wanna see something cool?' and I say 'It's you- it's not gonna be cool but go ahead'." Says what could only be assumed as Sinker.

"So then, he hops onto the rail, and slides down. Problem is, those rails have zero traction- I mean, those things are slippery as a mother fucker. And , Reel's hands are still wet from the showers, so he flies down the rail- I mean, hitting break-neck speed- and then he shoots off the end of the rail and straight into a CORNER! This di'kut hits just about the only corner in the damn city, busts his head open, and I have to carry his ass to the medbay."

A new round of laughter could be heard following the conclusion of the story, and the outsider takes a deep breath, a smirk appearing on his face. He approaches the door and steps through quickly, walking into the barracks of the five troopers- no, wait- six. All of them in their blacks and lazing around their bunks.

"Damn, Reel- six years and you're still a dumbass?" He asks, shifting his weight to one side and resting his hand on his hip. "That's impressive."

The men in the Barracks all turned to look at the newcomer, and one of them stood.

"4677?" Asked the one that had stood up, his back straight.

"Tackle Box." He informed with a smirk. "Sorry you guys couldn't be the ones to pick it out."

The one that stood, a man with five tallies over his right brow and a standard cut, approached and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

"Line. It's good to have you back, brother." He said, pulling him into a hug.

Tackle Box chuckled and returned the hug. The two were then soon joined by the rest of the squad, along with reintroductions.

Reel did have a pretty gnarly scar right on his hairline. His hair was standard cut, but it was nothing short of a mussied mess. Hook also had a standard cut, but he had a clean and new looking fish hook tattoo over his left eye, and his introduction came with a joking "That's Captain Hook to you, soldier". Sinker had grown out his hair, pulling it into a bun with a few stray curls peeking out. Bait had shaved the sides of his head, leaving him with a mohawk.

Then, the sixth- His hair was a bit longer, with a couple of strands bleached to be a blonde color. He seemed meek- perhaps a bit younger, even?

When Tackle Box got to him, he offered his hand for a shake.

"I'm Jig." He said, clearly a tad nervous. "I was assigned to Fisher Squad a couple of months ago."

Tackle Box raised a brow as Jig took his hand and shook it.

"I'm Fisher Squad's medic." He replied. "Good to have you, vod'ika ."

Jig rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling a bit.

"H-how could you tell?" He asked.

Tackle Box shrugged, then gave Jig a brotherly push on the shoulder. "You've got gen two practically written on you." He teased.

"THAT'S WHAT I SAID! THANK YOU !" Bait insisted, plopping back into his bed.

"I grew a bit faster than expected- something about a scientist screwing up some of the growth hormones, I think." Jig explained.