| I think D00MED will be closing for now. Not forever, but for now. I've become extremely busy and I don't have much time to admin the board. Maybe during the summer I'll get some better staff and we'll do a complete revamp of the site.|
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BEST, Ezio, Staff
NAME: Ezio Best
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Homosexual
PERSONNEL CLASS: Staff
EYE COLOR: Brown
HAIR COLOR: n / a
PLAYBY/FACE CLAIM: Peter Macon
MENTAL DISORDERS: Carnophobia - Ezio has a morbid fear and repulsion towards consuming any form of meat. Strict vegan.
PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: Scrapes, scabs, scars and fresh cuts; all minor accidents during work. Calloused fingertips earned from playing guitar. Has a habit of picking at his fingernails and scabs.
|It takes hours, but then again everything takes hours. |
Time flows by, hours turning to minutes turning to seconds, and he never bothered to order a watch. Faces go by, some stepping out of his way and uttering little "sorries" before walking past, others pressing up and barreling against him like he were a human shield before pushing past the crowds of men and women and children that make up the Metropolis. A city inside a ship, the Metropolis was a vast sector, a framework of a world inside the vacuum of space, and he had grown up in an old southern town near Charlotte, South Carolina, which he'd figured out in the week or two since his arrival, were completely separate places. He wasn't accustomed to the pushes and pulls as fellow shipmates mushed past him, but once again, he came from a sleepy little town. A town on Earth.
And now he was truly a fish out of water. They all were. He tugged at the mop and shoved its wet tendrils on metallic flooring. Started humming a simple tune to himself. Cleaning solution ( water was too precious to be recycled here ) splattered on the floor, a green tinged liquid that sank vertically and rocked along with the steady rythim of the ship. Had he not know better he might have guessed that he was on a boat. A gigantic boat, with thrusters and thousands of tourists, going to Mars. If that didn't sound like a sci-fi novel premise he didn't know what would. He smiled to himself, tipping his hat to a young woman who apologized for nearly tipping over the WET FLOOR sign.
As the woman giggled and moved on, he kept himself focused on the job. He liked being a janitor, no lies there, and if it weren't for the promise of a raise he'd still be working his ass who knew where. But to be in space? His mind was still wrapping around it. Weren't there all these movies that had to do with space making everything go wrong? What if, on the offchance, something terrible happened here? Would cops be able to clear it up? Would there be any chance of escaping safe and sound? Would there even be a chance of staying alive?
He decided he'd have time to think about it during lunch break.