CORPORAL JOHN MORDEN, CALLSIGN REAPER, FIRE TEAM LEADER.<br/><br/>Reaper, having awoken like all of the other marines, briskly walked from his cryo-pod to the showers, using the minimal amount of water, ice cold, before heading to his locker. He quickly dressed, pulling on his standard issue marine combat pants, tank top, belt and boots, before slipping on his knife's leg holster. He then retrieved his knife from it's case, as well as a sharpening tool. He then walked into the mess hall.<br/><strong>"Rome, the synthetic has things to do. I doubt it is interested in such...activities at this time."</strong>Reaper said softly, while be filled a cup with the nutritional "goop". He then sat down at the table, and began to sharpen his knife methodically, creating a somewhat distracting noise as metal scraped against metal, pausing occasional to sip more of his beverage.<br/>