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Romero yawned "Ugh... well, I'm gonna nap in my corner for a little bit. Wake me up if say... the sky is falling? Or throats are being sacrificed to something by edgy emos in black worshiping some dark god. One of those is bound to happen in the next thirty minutes or so..."

Romero napped in the corner, but within minutes he realized, he couldn't escape the demons from the past any further.

He stood behind the rock in Prospect Legios, Walker looking on at the soldiers. Romero walked up to Walker, and whispered in his ear "These guys are either traitors or deserters. Gun them down Walker.". Walker obeyed the advice, killing them.

Romero almost savored the bloodlust. He knew that know.

In the next flashpoint, he ordered the white phosphorous strike. Not Walker.

He shot Adams, not a rebel or Walker. He did.

These scattered memories separated from reality. Walker wasn't insane, not even close.

He just needed someone to blame.

But for what?

Maybe it simply being there, and keeping him from going home.

Or maybe he was taking out his anger on someone, or some people. Just for bringing him here.

The white phosphorous incident. Killing 76 of 80 man platoon.

That time he saw a woman and her child wandering throughout a war-zone, as Romero shot rebels taking cover behind her. Ending in tragedy of untold proportions.

That time his dropship carved through a residential building while moving to another planet in the system. Killing forty civilians.

The time he fought against mantis raiders as they assaulted a civilian residential world, watching on as they slaughtered and tore through the civilians at an evac center.

Seeing his comrade obliterated by a wall mine, completely helpless.

The time he watched on as his comrades set a rebel orbital station ablaze, killing the man within.

The hung corpses of Federation soldiers within a city.

All that, maybe he was just insane. Maybe he was delusional. Maybe it was something much deeper.

Maybe something just flipped a switch within his mind, leaving him like he was.

23 years old, and he felt like he was in his 40s.

While he dreamed of his past, he moved and twitched in place, it drew attention from across the room.

When he awoke, he was hallucinating, his wife standing over him, like he was home again.

"N-Nicole...?"

What is going on in his head? Slava asks himself

"Warning! Missile incoming! Repeat, missile incoming!" Interceptor yells through the speakers.

"Chyort! Romero! Get up!" Slava yells "Translator! Get ready!"

"Ugh..." Romero groaned, getting up, hearing the sirens, flashing between the past of himself getting up from bed, and present of himself getting up in the ship.

"Shit... what happened...?

N-Nicole...?"

Interceptor swerves, just barely dodging the missile. "Looks like we're under attack by a-" He stops mid-sentence, as if he were shocked at what he identified the ship as. He remembers that design, the colors, the shape...

The ship of his nightmares has come back to life.

And it is preparing to open fire.

"Agh..." Romero groaned, wandering about the ship as it swerves violently, sending him off his feet.

Then within seconds, his dreams, past and present, ended. Replaced by a calm, clarity. Like he was finally thinking in the present.

He picked up his rifle, and rubs his eyes, standing up. He pulled his mask off his face and readied his rifle.

Time to get back to work.

"What ship is it Interceptor?" The ship rocks as a small bomb detonates is an unused room. "I'm too busy manning shields!" The emitters whine as they absorb a basic laser shot. "We're under-equipped for this!" Slava cries

Translator immediately stopped checking the ship systems upon hearing about the incoming missile. He shouted to Interceptor "Is anyone currently operating the ship's weapons or engines?" he asked, taking a course for the engine control room "I'm not too sure about my skill with either system but I think it's better someone be on them than not."

He vaguely remembered one of the crew from the last ships he served on talking about how to optimise a weapon's targeting system. "You can let the computer do the job, but they're predictable things. They can't account for the unpredictability of a person" the Rockman had told him "You bypass a few limiters and safeties here and there and you can save an extra second of charge which makes or breaks the battle. Computers don't want to do that"

He was told the same things about the engines from a particularly knowledgeable Slug. "Enginesss require delicate work... but oncccee you know the sssyssstems, you know how to get that extra bit of thrussst and avoid that extra misssssile or lassser ssstrike."

"Interceptor, just what are we looking at?" once he saw the ship on the weapons console screen.

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OOC here

Have we actually determined what roles we're taking on the ship? I know Slava's on shields but Romero and Translator? Boarding party. But when boarding isn't needed, what stations should we man? I know Interceptor's probably got piloting downpat (Gold level I'm guessing ) so that leaves Engines, Weapons, Doors and Sensors.

"..." Interceptor says nothing, the engines whirring to life, as he puts the FTL drive into maximum charge.
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Well, that's up to all of you guys.

Slava takes a look at the scans of the opposing ship. A small bomb, an Artemis missile launcher, a basic laser, and a dual shot laser; which has not yet been fired. Strange, Slava thinks, why have they not used their most powerful weapon?

The ship rocks as a missile hits an empty room

Romero collapses as the missile impacts

"ARGH... Shit... What the hell is this thing...?"

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I'm probably gonna have Romero do literally nothing when he isn't killing things. He's just gonna hang around in his corner and rock in fear of everything that happened not 2 minutes ago/2 years ago in a PTSD trip.