<div class="floatright">(https://orig00.deviantart.net/43e6/f/2017/233/0/a/bobnude1_600x900_by_whiskypaint-dbktecc.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Max<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Jone High Port Loading Bay 2B<br/><strong>Station Time:</strong>15:41<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>"Greg"<br/><hr/><br/>The doors opened and Max found herself facing what could only be described as death. She froze, a gnawing terror in the pit of her stomach that made her glad much after the fact that she had voided her bladder before the operation. She swallowed, her gun not wavering, though it dipped a fraction as the guns were moved away from her, and a sense of relief washed over her as she realised that whoever these Vargr were, they weren't her enemy today. When the lead spoke however, she had very interesting news indeed. Max answered, still wary and still nervous, though her own gun, practically a peashooter by comparison with what was around her lowered a fraction further.<br/><br/>"Max McKenzie, er,  Recruit Jone Port Authority... State your buisness."<br/><br/>It sounded lame even as her demand left her lips- but she needed a moment to think and while they laughed or joked at her request, she might just have that minute.