<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v140/Lockepick/Character%20Pictures/6e6c4fa8-8c63-426d-8be2-dff93c9e04cd_zps0d60e44c.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:<em>Hospital Corpsman Third Class</em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">James Endast</span><br/><strong>Location</strong>: God knows where.<br/><strong>Time</strong>: See 'Location.'<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Entry Post<br/><hr/><br/>James Endast should have been out of commission for at least a few more months. The physical therapy was over, but the psychological therapy was still slow going. All he could think about was getting back out into the field, out on the front lines. That's where he belonged.  He knew he'd return to service eventually, and that's all he wanted. Everything on the 'outside' was temporary, nothing about it seemed real or meaningful. When the offer came to take a job, any job, James agreed quickly. It wasn't until he was in the cramped quarters flying towards Antarctica, that maybe he realized he agreed<em>too</em>quickly. The cramped quarters were actually comforting. Only in a military environment or a jail cell would somebody live in such cramped quarters. Even though nothing else about this was familiar to him, at least the cruel bureaucracy that ran the military was evident here.<br/><br/>The thermal suit was completely new to him. Thankfully he had way too much time and nothing else to do to try it on. He worked on unloading what medical supplies they gave him and seeing how to best fill the pockets. Trying to memorize where things were placed, and making sure nothing fragile was in a place that required movement. Once he felt confident in that, the MOBA was picked up and played with. He had wished he had seen the MOBA first, as the articles in the Brief offered some distraction. There was very little to read, which made him read into everything that was listed. He laid back on that cot and played with the device to grow accustomed with it. Like experimenting with a new computer, just trying to find what options and settings were available. It was hardly fun, but it was more so than counting how many times his teeth chattered.<br/><br/>The turbulence was worrisome. He had been in large planes before, and they never flew smoothly. He told himself that was just the case with this one. Each bump and bounce of the plane was punctuated by James telling himself that this was perfectly normal; though he had no grounds to assume such. The warning about the descent was met with a loud groan of relief. He looked around for any way to strap himself in; if the ride was this bumpy, he could only imagine the landing would be worse. The process couldn't be short enough. Even if the plane just nose-dived directly into the ground, James would think the process of landing took too long. The cold wasn't welcoming, but he was anxious to get to work, anxious to get back on the field.<br/><br/>He had to do something, had to accomplish something. He had to be somebody. He had to make his life worthwhile. He owed that to them. If walking into the freezing cold, if this job was how he could do so, then he would. Even as he's bounced around in that seat, it's the only thing on his mind.