(http://in.bookmyshow.com/entertainment/wp-content/uploads/image/BMS%20Reviews/GB%20solo.jpg)<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Ian MacBride<br/><strong>Location</strong>Living Quarters, Engineering, Armory<br/><strong>Addressing</strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/>"Prisoner on deck!" It was no surprise to Ian how he was being treated as he was moved from his cell in London to one clandestine location after another before finally reaching his destination. When being accused of insubordination and murder, you learn quite quickly to get used to chains and large metal cuffs on your wrists, as well as a full compliment of soldiers making sure you don't do something insane. It didn't help that Ian was also used to being the caged lion being poked by sticks. Just about each time they did a guard change, some rookie tries to get to close and poke just a bit too much, and each time he ended up with a bloodied nose and his weapon disassembled into a pile of junk.<br/><br/>"Lads, can aye have a smoke?" Ian asked as the four guards pushed him into a room that he assumed would be his cell before shutting the door behind the Scot. The room was dark, the lights remaining off til Ian rose to his feet once more and searched for the switch on the wall. As he did, he discovered that he was not in a cell, but in a furnished room fit for his previous rank. "Aye don' believe me eyes..." he said to himself, only for the sound of metal hitting the deck ringing out in response. As Ian looked at his wrists, he found himself freed of his bonds, which automatically made him suspicious.<br/><br/>As Ian looked about the room, he soon found a desk with a note upon it, the seal of the British Crown keeping it shut, and a Webley Mark XI autorevolver sat next to it in a holster upon a belt. Taking the note in hand, he broke the seal only to be surprised by the contents of the letter.<br/><br/><em>Major MacBride, you have been tentatively reinstated to the British Army, with all ranks and privileges once held, on the condition you fulfill your service to the crown as part of a special operations group. Should you fail to follow orders, or make an attempt to escape, you will be shot on sight as a deserter. Should you fail to complete your mission, you will be returned to the brig for a future trial. Should you succeed, however, you will be allowed full reinstatement or honorable discharge with no consequences. Orders are from the highest authority.</em><br/><br/>The letter was short and to the point, and it made it clear that he had no choice in the matter. He would either follow orders like a good soldier, or die. The options were fairly limited. Turning about on his heel, he headed to the small locker near the bed bolted into the wall and pulled out a tan British military uniform, sighing as he laid it out on the mattress. Undressing from his prisoner clothes, he quickly slipped on the uniform before grabbing the belt from the desk with what would once again be his service revolver. Drawing the weapon from the holster, he tipped it up and open to check for live rounds before clasping it shut once more. Slipping the sidearm back into it's holster, he took a deep breath before heading out of the room, following the line of pipes about till he found his way to the engineering deck.<br/><br/>Strolling around the engineering deck, Ian felt more at home than he had in years. It had been some time since the hiss of steam and the sound of metal clanking filled his ears with their joyous song. The lights of various instruments and gauges were the only source of illumination as he dug deeper into the bowls of the ship till he found the reason he headed to this deck. The aether-engine hummed with the none too delicate sound of life as it awaited a destination to travel to. It was truly a sight to behold, and clearly much more advance than the ones that Ian worked on as a member of the combat engineer corp.<br/><br/>As nostalgia wore away, the Highlander made his way down yet another floor into lowest part of the ship, taking his time to get acquainted with the layout of the ship before entering the Armory. State of the art and fully stocked with only the best of the best, Ian smirked a bit as he pondered the various pieces of infantry armament that were held inside. American, British, Russian, Japanese, French, every possible man portable arm was held in quantity enough to arm every person on the ship and enough parts to build half as many more. Ian quickly took hold of a British service rifle, a newer model Lee Enfield assault rifle, clearly built similarly to the now ancient rifle Ian had trained with many years before. The thumb hole stock and barrel shroud were of note, as well as the thirty round magazine of .404 British that had become the standard round of the Empire in the past 40 years. All the comforts of old, with the developments that the Army relied on. How British.<br/><br/>Setting the rifle down, he picked up a carbine version of the same rifle and headed over to a work bench near by, giving it his traditional once over before taking a look at the parts he had available. If he was going to be working on this ship, he might as well have the equipment he wanted the way he wanted it in the field. "At least i's no' some Jap twig..." he mumbled about the rifle as he grabbed a low powered scope and gave it a quick glance through the lenses. It could always be worse, he could still be stuck in a cell, he supposed.