“Markie! Wake up!”

Staff Sergeant Markoya De Malfursur, blinked his eyes open. A girl stood above him in standard UNSC crew member uniform. Her long, dirty blond hair was brushed neatly, her blue-almost purple eyes shimmered, and she wore an unenthusiastic frown. “Damnit Markoya, why did you get drunk again last night? You knew damn well we had a meeting today!” she scolded, crossing her arms. Markoya blinked, seeing he was on his stomach, with his hand a few inches away from a half empty Vodka bottle. He swallowed, squinting his eyes at the throbbing pain in his head.

“Markie, GET UP!”

“OK! JESUS H. CHRIST!”

Markoya stood, and stumbled. Mendezio caught him, and quickly shoved him off. “Now get dressed, get your ass in gear, AND LET’S GO!”

Markoya grumbled, Russian accent flowing freely.

“Like mother…”