<strong>Lcpl. Roman "Rome" Beneke</strong><br/><br/>The pervading blackness of cryosleep slowly ebbed, transforming from black to dark red to ever increasing brighter shades of red and finally to soft whites. Slowly, Lance Corporal Roman Beneke became aware of a muted voice which gradually became several voices. His eyes opened with a start at the sudden pop and hiss of the cryogenic tube seal breaking loose followed by the mixture of gases rushing from the cryotube. He breathed in deeply, his first full breath in months. His lungs ached with a stabbing pain and he coughed in protest, quickly rising to a sitting position. Rome’s muscles were stiff and sore from months of inactivity. Wisps of fog spilled out of the tube as he squinted against the harsh, bright lights in the room, amplified by the antiseptic white walls, ceiling and floor. As he slowly turned to let his legs hang off of the side of the tube, he winced as his eardrums were assaulted by a man yelling in close proximity.<br/><br/><strong> “Get a move on! Clean and cover your ugly asses! Check your gear! Breakfast in 20! MOVE IT! OOH-RAH!"</strong><br/><br/>After a minute of sitting on the side of the cryogenic bed, his head began to clear and he was able to recall where he was and what was going on, at least as much as he had been told, which wasn’t much. All he knew is that Kilo Platoon had been ordered to board the USS Mitchum, enter cryosleep, and go to some God-forsaken mudhole in space called LV-1875. And that man yelling so close to his ears was the Sarge.<br/><br/>Rome had been with 1st squad, Kilo Platoon, 5th Regiment for about 18 months now and he liked it better than any of his previous assignments. He liked the LT and Sarge well enough. They both seemed capable marines and he trusted their leadership in a tough spot. His squad mates were equally as capable at their jobs and, though it took some time, they eventually earned his respect, even Zippo, the 19 year old pyromaniac girly-girl.<br/><br/><strong>{EDITED}</strong><br/>Gizmo was relatively new to the squad. He didn't really fit in with the rest of the squad in Rome's opinion because he wasn't tough, fearless or eerily disturbed in some way like the rest of the squad seemed to be. He was a thinker, not a fighter and Rome gave him a hard time because it. Gizmo did have his usefulness, though. He was really smart and tech savvy and he could make things work that had otherwise been nonfunctional, though Senjo could do that as well. Still, despite Gizmo's shortcomings as a Marine, Rome had decided he'd give him a chance. After all, there had been times in the few missions they'd run in the past where Gizmo's technical know-how had saved all of their sorry asses.<br/><br/>As for Senjo, Rome was still unsure of … “her.” Although she was an android and not a Marine, Senjo had proven an invaluable asset to the squad, that was indisputable. What confused Rome was whether he should think of her as another member of the team or as simply as another tool or weapon like his motion tracker or M56 smartgun. He knew she was an artificial life form, but she was also really nice eye candy for him to rationalize simply viewing her as another tool or weapon. Regardless, Senjo was an integral asset to the team and he felt better “equipped” having her around when things got hairy.<br/><br/>Rome shook his head and regained his focus. He slipped off of the cryogenic bed, his bare feet coming into contact with the cold, metal floor and sending a shiver of goose bumps across his dark, naked flesh. He stretched his arms, still feeling a bit stiff and decided they needed a bit of exercise to get the blood pumping. Ignoring the aching, gnawing in his stomach, Rome walked towards the lockers, jumped up to grab a chin-up bar in a nearby doorway and proceeded to do execute chin-ups.<strong>“ONE! Ooh-Rah! TWO! Ooh-Rah! …"</strong>