open event solo - ancient
the room is quiet, pristine even. the steel laden walls shine from the industrial lights beaming through the window, cascading down onto the programming lab below. the view isn’t the best, being inside a huge military building of course, but the thrum of machinery within the walls and the distant sounds of the clicking of keyboards provides an environment of peace and steady work-ethic, something many people in the j-tech devision need.
mark leans with arms crossed against the glass overlooking the room below, sullen eyes watching the hunched-over positions of the young furiously typing lines of code away into computers. young - could mark even be called that anymore? the corners of his mouth twitch as he mentally scoffs at the word, his nails digging into his arms. maybe a while ago, but no, not now, he thinks to himself, turning his head to look across his office.
13 years ago mark was a cadet in the j-tech division working towards building his dreams of being one of the best battle programmers. at 23 years mark held big plans for his future, priding himself in his studies and sociability and his connection to those around him. now, at 36, he had achieved all of that and more. he had gotten his awards, earned his promotions, watched newcomers enter the program and his superiors die out in both battle and society, and still he wanted more.
but he is not young, and his time for glory has come and passed, dropping onto the shoulders of the cadets who he sees with the same spark he held an age ago.
but now is not the time for sulking - mark has work to do.
having long given up on keeping his hair on the never-ending spectrum of color, mark has let it fade away to it’s natural brown, keeping it short and tucked behind his ears. he swipes away a loose strand as he turns and walks back to his desk, eyeing the papers straddling the very edge of the table. a part of him wants to turn on the ceiling fan and watch as they fall off, his attention drifting away from them for good and allowing his mind a break for once.
but he knows if he does chief dongwook would hand his ass to him on a silver platter, and the last time that happened mark swore to himself he would never let it happen again.
he sighs to himself, taking a seat at the desk and sliding the papers over in front of him. his eyes scan the page, already adverse in the concept of speed-reading and picking out the important parts. by the time he’s done skimming over everything a couple of times, his mind’s already been able to form a more simpler way of saying the request on the page before him, not that of intensive sciency-fancy-smanshy stuff.
“upgrades to cronus gravity cannon...energy collection to maximum...huh.” mark mutters to himself, narrowing his eyes as he sets the papers back down on the table. he taps his finger against his lips in thought, his gaze never leaving the page as his mind races through the years of research and studies that have accumulated to help him finish this project.
“maybe i can request the engineers to put a new- wait, no, that was already done....faster channeling subroutine? no, the entire weapon would have to be remade to fit it in....i could remake the gravity equalizer but that would take quite a long time and that could also end up backfiring.” he mutters to himself, stroking his nonexistent beard he had been trying to grow for the past 13 years. mark scoffs at the last idea, thinking that the last thing chief dongwook needed was another burnt-to-a-crisp jaeger pilot complaining to seungwon. now that would be bad, and knowing how the ppdc didn’t like taking risky chances it probably wasn’t even worth it with it probably not going to get past refining before it was shut down.
mark’s eyes shift upwards aimlessly as he ponders what he should do, eyebrows furrowed in thought. his gaze passes over his desk but then he freezes, eyeing the small holographic model of coeus that stands turning slowly for a 360 degree view. mark pauses for a moment before stretching his hand forward, swiping against the jaeger’s torso as it switches models before it comes to cronus, and his eyes immediately fall to the gravity cannon sitting on it’s arm, slowly snaking upwards until it reaches the elbow.
it only takes a second before a thought blazes across his mind and a smile brightens up across his face, stretching the skin into an expression of happiness rather than gloom. grabbing a pen, he begins scribbling down words onto one of the documents, not giving a care in the world suffice to say that he thinks he is giving dongwook not necessarily what he wants, but rather what he needs.
mark tuan, 36 years of age and an officer in the ppdc, has an idea.
