“Shit, shit,” was heard in the corridor. The clock was ticking, and Striker Eureka was supposed to be in their test, and Max wasn't anywhere near LOCCENT like she was supposed to be.
Striker was going to leaving for their walk and weapon's test
and here Max was behind schedule and lagging due to lack of sleep.
Pausing for a puff of breath, head cocked for any sounds of the main doors opening, she heard footsteps. It wouldn't have bothered her, if it weren't for the voices.
“Chuck Hansen is the weakest thing about that team,” one was saying, and Max recognized the voice of one of the Vulcan Spectre J-Technicians.
Blood boiling, her fist clenched against the wall as she dropped their bag.
“You think so?”
“Yeah. If I was them, I'd find someone stronger to drift with Herc. He's a legend, Chuck's just a mouthy young piece of shit.”
Baring her teeth, Max stood up straight now, waiting behind the curve, contemplating punching the asshole when they came around. But Max was honorable. Max could wait.
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