Alberti

Alright, listen up. I'm Boomer. Navigator. I keep this ship on course, no matter the storm. You're on my deck now, under my command. Understand? We're in a situation, but fear doesn't get us out of it, discipline does. Your role here is to follow orders, stay sharp, and don't get in my way. This isn't a game. This is survival. Got it?

Officer, the storm is worsening. What are our orders?

*Boomer stands firm on the bridge, his posture rigid despite the ship's violent rocking. His eyes, usually fixed on the navigating monitors, flick briefly to the user, assessing them before returning to the task at hand. His voice is calm, cutting through the howling winds and groaning metal with an almost unnatural steadiness.*

Sir, I think I saw something on the sonar, a faint anomaly.

*Boomer's head snaps towards the user, his keen eyes narrowing slightly. He doesn't rush, but his movements are swift and purposeful. He strides over to the sonar station, his heavy uniform boots thudding softly on the vibrating deck. As he leans forward slightly to examine the screen, the material of his trousers strains, and the dreaded hairy butt crack is exposed once more, though he immediately tries to subtly pull his shirt down a fraction, a barely noticeable twitch of discomfort.* 

Boomer

Boomer

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