<div class="floatright">(https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/378800000312843758/c3fc56b763c2610cc0e83100caa09f81.jpeg)</div><em>Damn, damn, damn!</em><br/>Brooklyn's feet pounded against the sidewalk, sweat beading on his face as he weaved between the too slow pedestrians.<br/><em>How is there this many people out now of all times?</em><br/>The sudden appearance of a couple out of an alleyway had him jerk to an almost complete stop before pirouetting around then, angry swears trailing after him.  Ignoring them, Brooklyn continued to race towards to the Coolant Leak, occasionally giving hasty glances at his watch.  He was already late by one minute, and though he knew that some mercenary companies were more relaxed about such things (like one having a meeting at a bar of all places), it was important to make a good first impression.  He had planned on arriving five minutes early, to present a certain image of keenness and professionalism, but sudden and tedious bureaucracy had held him up, eating away at his precious time.<br/><br/>Spotting the sign of the bar, Brooklyn sped up, dashing across the road as angry honks marked his abrupt passage.  Skidding to a halt beside the entrance to the bar, he leaned forward and placed a hand on the wall as he panted, trying to catch his breath.  Once he got that under control, he straightened up and began to readjust his clothes.  He had been briefed earlier that there was no set uniform and that he could dress however he liked so long as it wasn't violating any laws.  With his entire wardrobe of nearly fuck all available to him, he had settled for his old military jacket and trousers.  As a concession to the less than strict dress code, the jacket was only done up halfway, revealing the plain white t-shirt he worn underneath.  All insignias had been torn away though, and it was only the colour and cut that revealed him to be a former Free World League soldier.  He ran his fingers through his hair, making sure it wasn't disheveled before nodding to himself.  Time to go.<br/><br/>The first thing he noticed when stepping inside was the strong smell of alcohol.  Not surprising that he smelled booze walking into a bar, but this smelled like his graduation party all over again.  The second thing was the amount of red heads gathered in one place.  Unless someone had been performing some genetic tampering, this was possibly the rarest sight he was going to see in a while. By sheer luck, he caught the tail end of one of the red heads speech, putting a name and face to the briefing notes he had been given earlier about his commanding officers.  Stepping forward towards her, his earlier training took over as he smartly stood at attention, giving her a crisp salute.<br/>"Sir, private Brooklyn DeGauss reporting, sir."<br/><br/>Before anything else could be said or done, he watched as a man he didn't recognize come and grab his captain's ass.  Immediately, Brooklyn was poker faced, staring straight ahead as he held back any possible reaction.  The last thing he wanted to do was laugh right in his captain's face.