<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/HRRY4My.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Captain Bianka Saint<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Train Station<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Chief Frederick Hagerstorm, Marcus<strong>Mentioned:</strong>All Others<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>"Good luck getting my prints..." Bianka grunted, eying one of the ID-d doors like an old foe. "I usually find it faster and easier to blow the door off it's hinges, then replace the door."<br/><br/>Still, he was asking them to get scanned in first.  Five minutes and some angry guttural barking later, and she was finally in.  She did however assume that like always the door would never work anyway.  Whatever, she'd go through the wall if she had to really; it was probably easier and cheaper to replace than the doors.<br/><br/>The barracks though were like an old home; she'd never<em>not</em>lived in a barracks; the five years she was a private contractor and living off base but not in the field for the first time in her life were the most foreign and uncomfortable to her.  Sadly she was sad to see the damn mutt stripping off her shirt and rubbing her scent everywhere. Great, one of<em>those</em>... she wouldn't like it if Bianka started doing the scent-marking, largely because it typically involved her whipping out her 'favorite rifle' and urinating on whatever she wanted.  There was a reason she was a huge supporter of making sure canimorphs got properly trained; untrained hounds were little more than uncultured mutts.<br/><br/>Her bed would be the one nearest her CO, so second nearest the kitchen.  Call it habit or training, but she liked being able to guard her commanding officers as closely as possible.  Another 'luckily' is that the bed was not shit, and high enough up off the ground to allow her to fit her heavier trunk under, and then the other...<br/><br/>...once she'd opened it up to reveal the small armory contained within.  Cases of ammunition, batteries, scopes, suppressors... first things to come out were a hardened hip holster and what was basically a utility belt for gear, like many civ-world urban enforcers.  Quick flash of metal and a knife was stuck into one spot, a particularly old fashioned-style telescopic bludgeoning device, a gun that anyone from the Terran League - particularly it's militaries or police forces - would recognize to go in the accompanying holster (after being quickly checked for functionality and ammo, the gun apparently sized well for her large, canimorph hand)...<br/><br/>Then came the gun that put a grin on her face: a bullpup rifle of perfect size for the dog holding it, rugged, sleek, and judging by the size of the open end of the barrel,<em>powerful</em>...<br/><br/>"Chief, I would like you to meet one of my girls," she said, holding her custom-built rifle up by the stock. "Bullpup impulse gauss rifle chambered half-large (OOC: basically 500 S&W size, implying a rather large 'rifle' caliber without getting into sniper territory) with tungsten cases around a ferromagnetic core for firing. Designed for trigger discipline, so I don't have proper ROF, but it's not slow.  Recoil is heavy but designed to be routed into a large frame; couldn't muzzle-jump with me if she tried, naughty bitch!  Her little sister is chambered half-low (OOC: .50 AE, implied very heavy pistol caliber), and lucky for them both I got enough love for both my girls!"<br/><br/>Her 'little' sister was thumbed as Bianka spoke, and naturally it was the 'Timmy' strapped to her hip...<br/><br/>"You got another room for when the rest of my gunsmithing and armoring gear shows up tomorrow?" she asked sincerely, setting her rifle into the trunk again and retrieving some spare pistol clips and beginning to load them with the large handgun rounds. "Something... about half this size?  Or do I have to build that too?"