Sweat dripped freely from his brow as Goose pulled himself up one last time up with his right arm.
"One...hundred." The one-armed man says to himself before letting go of the pull-up bar and finally letting his body rest after finally finishing the last set of his pull-ups. Goose had made this his waking routine ever since he had been hired by Lord Livingstone. To wake up, get clothed, and train the same way he trained when he was still in the 78th. It had been a good two years since the Chaos incursion in Rothea Prime wiped out the vast majority of the Hellhounds. His face hardens with a cold and almost vacant look on his face. If only the armor column hadn't been attacked and managed to push through to support them...maybe...just maybe, things would have been different. At the thought, Goose had balled his left hand into a fist so tightly that the servos and gears whined in protest.
"First one in the training room and first to finish once again, huh Goose?" Someone says. Snapping him out of the trance before tossing a towel at the sweaty head of the former Sargeant. Goose turned his head to look at who had thrown the towel to see a fellow ex-guardsman walking towards him from halfway across the training room. Goose smirks at the man and stands up from his resting position to use the towel to wipe away the sweat off.
"As per usual. I can't afford the luxury to have noodly arms like yours, Crispin." Goose ends with a chuckle.
"Bastard." Crispin replies before joining Goose in laughter. Soon afterward, he stops wasting time and excuses himself before beginning his daily exercises. Goose waves him goodbye before deciding that it would be a good time to return to his quarters.
Then he felt his stomach rumble.
Maybe a quick trip to the Mess first.
"Damn." Was the only thing he had to say to the 'meal' before him. Sitting on the metallic food tray was a thick clumpy grey paste with random pink streaks. Dark oddly shaped raisin-like things were in the mix of the unappetizing slurry. He overheard a couple of other crew members say that it was made from something called a Ta'agvalian Slug...whatever the frak those things were. It looked like Corpse-Starch to him. In another division of the tray was a myriad of colored pills and capsules. Immediately recognizing them as supplement pills and maybe vitamin pills. And in the opposite division of the one containing pills, was a single cup of weird brown liquid. Goose in all 28 years of living had he encountered this strange liquid. Was it even safe to drink? Of course, it was. But what in the Throne's golden plates was a 'fruit'?
But overall, the meal was unappetizing to the normal person.
Not to Goose, however.
"They're serving the good stuff today. Praise be to the Emperor for the meal." And with that, the man begins to eat the slop with gusto. Discovering that the strange brown colored drink would be the newest addition to his favorite things to consume. To newer members of the crew, this was a strange sight to behold. A sane human being, eating the weird looking and even weirder tasting food with such a look of satisfaction on his face. But to the rest of the crew, this was just a regular day when the food in the Mess actually had any flavor to them.
After finishing his meal, Goose would finally retire to his quarters to clean up and get ready for the duties he was to perform for the day.
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