After Slavko ended in jail again he emidietly saw plenty of opertunities for escape.Only problem was Bubba. Bubba was colaborating with prison guards and with drug dealers at the same time. Thatswhy Bubba couldnt last long. He soon fell down stairs and was found dead. Event was prosumed accident but some suspected that he was "assisted" felling by some prisoners. Slavko qickly saw opurtunity and escaped in cofin transport which was flying to New York system. There he bought starflier and flew to distant planet on which was SCRA base. Once there he easyli found well marked recruitment office. Slavko entered after he was invited inside by Commisar. When he saw Commisar he thot " at least Commisar doesnt know how embaresed I was when I walked into LPI trap on Mannhaten".
As Commander Weise rounded the corner, he saw two men, one in an orange prison jumpsuit with a large red stain on the seat, and another in an orange pilot's jumpsuit with several scorch marks, and a large rip in the sleeve. Sadly, they were staring at the dummy commissar he'd set up, just to catch such dimwitted knumbskulls as these. Drawing his pistol, he yelled down the hall.
"Hey! You, in the orange!"
As they turned in dim-witted unison, he sighed, and gave them their last warning.
"As soon as I shoot one of you, the other one gets to run away. Okay?"
They looked towards each other, then back to him. The one in the prison-suit began to stutter,
"Uuuh, Sir, I'm, uuh..." Blam! Blamblamblamblam!
Eugen re-holstered his pistol, and wandered away, humming to himself, as the bodies of Slavko and Qiwei bounced off the floor.
"Something about orange coveralls just makes my day."
Jack Handey Wrote:I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
After Slavko never returned his younger brother decided that honor of hi family wont be lost only due to Slavkos foulishnes . So Ivan went on the same path as his brother five years earlier.With only one difrence. Ivan was more careful and also more comited to the goal of joining SCRA and the revolution. Thatswhy he complited spacecraft flying course and space survival course as well. After he was ready to fly any fighter ship he applied to recruitment office. He knew that he might never return to his birthpalce again. But he despised such weakneses. Thatswhy he didnt delay his decision any longer.
He walked down dark badly wentilated hall. When he stopped before recrutment offices door he was convinced that what he is duing is only right thing to do. He knocked the door and after hearing reply entered. It was no turning back from that point. He wil join the revolution or die trying.
Commander Eugen Weise looked up from the pile of Rheinland Military dogtags on his desk, and frowned as some young clown wandered in his door, without permission.
"Ivan Petrov, shut up for a second. You, did you have a brother that looked very similar to that bloodstain over there?"
As the even-more-moronic brother looked to the left, Eugen pulled his pistol, and shot the arrogant pup in the gut. As he mewled and fell to the floor, pissing himself on the way, Eugen stood, and walked over to stand above him. Pulling a flask of industrial alcohol from his pocket, he took a long swig, and began to pour the rest over the pathetic figure on the ground.
"Now, look here son. I already shot your wee pal, or whoever he was, but since I'm such a nice guy, I'm not going to shoot you... again. I've decided to use you as a message, to the rest of your illiterate, inbred, scum-sucking, fascist family. I hope they can read it, at least..."
Eugen smiled, lit a cigarette, and tossed the match onto Ivan Kolpa's fuel soaked body. As his back arched, and his screams filled the room, Eugen smiled, and inhaled the sweet scent of burning idiot.
----Three weeks later, a charred and battered corpse was delivered to the rest of the Kolpa Clan at their dung-heap. The sign stapled to the mutilated face read 'Bugger off then, Eh?'----
As the burned corpse was dragged away, Eugen turned to the other Ivan in his office. With smoke trailing out of his mouth, he casually flicked ash on the lapels of the candidate.
"So, not-such-a-moron-Ivan, what in the hell makes you think you're worthy of the revolution? You've got a revolutionaries' name? You've killed a few slaps, wops, and squareheads? You have proven the efficiency of the grenade to exhaustion? Give me something else, sonny, or you're going the way of the dodo."
Jack Handey Wrote:I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
Grigor Linsky stepped into the mildy heated recruitment centre on Planet Volgograd, a slight grin on his face. Although only being out of the military two years, seeing the Coalition symbol made him think of better times. Before some Corsair decided to play the Xylophone with his spinal cord, leaving him unable to fight in the army sense. A pilot however, he could do. He had retired from the military two years before and had decided instead of sitting in his small house waiting to die he would get out there and continue to serve the cause as he had done all of his life.
He looked past the flag for a minute and examined where he was standing. A small room, grey tiling covering the floor and ceiling and a large arrangement of benches to each side of the room. The benches formed a path that led to a booth at the end of the room. Grigor's back began to hurt after an hour of standing up, but he had still decided to walk to the recruitment centre. Showing weakness was something he was taught not to do back in training.
He took a seat on one of empty benches near the front of the line and began thinking of the better times. He guessed about a 20 minute wait before he was at the front desk, but he wouldn't care if it was a 20 day wait. He didn't want to sit at home and rot without doing anything productive for the cause. He suddenly had a memory from his training. He had been scared back then, and although the training beat that out of him long ago before it had done so he was truely terrified. He was young, seventeen, and was standing in a line with other recruits about his age. The commander of the training facility was walking towards them. A small pistol was in his hand. Grigor knew what it meant, but the others didn't have a clue. The commander arrived, and held the gun out to one of the recruits two from Grigor's left. And then he knew. The recruit knew what the commander was going to say next, and Grigor watched him as his brain went through all the options. They were all so alike he knew exactly what he was thinking. I can't run, I can't run, they'll hunt me down and kill me. Oh I never should of come here, i've made a mistake and now i'm going to pay for it. The recruit tried to catch the eyes of his comrades. Help me! Help me! his eyes screamed, but Grigor and the rest of the recruits were blind to him. Finally, the recruit gave in. I have to do it, I can not escape so I must do it.
'Ukase,' the commander had said. An order from an absolute authority. The recruit takes the small pistol in his hand, just staring at it for a few moments. Finally he looks back at the commander and says.
'Nichevo,' he had replied. Think nothing of it. He looked at the pistol for a few seconds more, than put it in his mouth. He looked at his fellow recruits, trying to see if any of them would decide to help him. None of them did. Facing defeat, the recruit pulled the trigger.
Blood and brain matter flew upward and the poor boys body stood for a few more seconds, then collapsed into a heap on the floor. The commander had walked away then.
Grigor was knocked out of his small dream when he saw that the person before him was already at the front desk, being told to head to one room of many. Finally he saw the recruit get up and head to a door, then close it behind him. Grigor moved out of his seat and stood infront of the desk.
'Name please?' A small man behind the desk asked.
'Colonel Grigor Linsky, here to reapply for the cause.'
'Room five then please, and welcome back sir.' he replied, then pointed towards the door at the end of one of the halls marked "5". Grigor moved towards it and opened the door. He gave a very small smile as he saw it looked exactly like the one he had been in when he applied for the cause the first time, all of those years ago. A large man sat behind the desk. Grigor could see in his eyes that he had seen alot of action. And that is why Grigor instantly respected him. The man at the desk stood up and saluted. Grigor returned the salute, a little rusty but he could still do that.
'Please, sit.' the man said. 'My name is Vladimir Shumilov, I have just been going through your record.'
Grigor sat as instructed and waited patiently as Vladimir finished reading his life from a file. A few minutes later Vladimir placed the file flatly on the desk and began to speak again.
'Your record is impeccable, not a flaw I can see. Except that you were captured by the Corsairs and some sort of injury to your spine forced you to quit the army, why have you returned?'
'All being a pilot takes is sitting in a chair, and unfortunately i've become very good at that. I'm here because I don't want to spend the last years of my life sitting in a small house waiting and wanting to die.' Vladimir gave a large grin that stretched from ear to ear, then placed a small recording device infront of him.
'Name?'
'Colonel Grigor Linsky.'
'You won't be a Colonel if you get accepted, we don't have that rank in the flying division. You'll be back to square one.'
'I know that sir, better to be at the bottom then not be there at all.'
'Age?'
'Sixty-five.'
'You don't look a day over fifty.'
'I moisturize sir.'
Vladimir caught the joke and gave a loud laugh.'
'Weight?'
'One hundred and eighty pounds sir.'
'Height.'
'Five foot seven inches sir.'
'DOB?'
'Semptember twenty-seventh 752 A.S.'
'Place of birth?'
'Planet Volgograd.'
Vladimir pressed the stop button on the recorder and stood. Grigor also stood and shook Vladimir's outstretched hand.
'Thats all we need to know for the moment, we will contact you shortly.' He saluted and Grigor returned it. Then he turned around and left the room. Grigor also left the room via the door he had entered and strolled outside again. The winter chill soothed him as he returned to his house to await the response.
[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. <3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.
' Wrote:Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.
It was Monday, time 22:06. At this time, another applicant was approaching recruitment office. He was tall, long haired, wearing Outcast jacket. Like he was getting closer and closer the commissar's doors, he felt, that his steps became heavier. "Vedel som ze sa toto stane. Rozmyslal som nad tym dlhy čas... A aj keď som sa rozhodol ze to spravym, stale sa toho trochu obavam... (I knew this will happen. I was thinking about this long time... And even I decided that i will do this, yet I am still little bit afraid of it...)" He was well aware, that after he enters those doors, he may leave them as Coalition soldier, or half dead, or he may not leave them at all. He was thinking about lot, and he didn't realise, that he stood right in front of those doors. A je to tu... Pride mi ale zvlastne, ze takto som sa nebal pred ziadnym mojim bojom.(Here it is... although I find it strange, that I never felt this kind of fear before any of my fights.) he thought. After that he calmed himself, he knocked on doors and then he entered.
Commissar's office was nice. Everywhere he looked, he saw his personal things, which represented fragments of the coalition history. Pictures, photos, medals and more. "Commissar Gorodetsky I presume." he started. There was silence for about 5 seconds, and then he continued:"Please let me introduce myself. My name is Samuel O'Altaris, and I'm the member of 4th family of Slovak Republic Remnant guild from planet Malta in Omicron Alpha system. I guess you haven't heard about us and I don't blame you for it" he smiled a bit. "Slovak Republic Remnants or in short SRR, are and mostly were political and economical group of Outcasts on Malta. Not big group, only 7 families, about 300 members in each of them. My guild was respected only because we were one of the oldest enclaves created on planet Malta. Now when I am thinking about, only 10 of us were fighting for prosperity of Outcast people in space. It is strange don't you think? It is already 3 years when I entered our Guard ranks under SRR flag with all those 10. They were good people, skilled pilots and.... my friends. We all tried to avoid cardamine using, we together fought in this pointless war against Corsairs... And now... Im only one that survived. Few of family members were killed by Bounty Hunters on planet Malta. I personally think, that they were hired by Council of Dons, because ancestors of SRR are believed to be saboteurs of Hispania thanks to our name. You see comrade, my ancestors were citizen of Slovakia, state of Coalition back in Sol on planet Earth. I wish i was born there and here... cursed Sirius.} he said, and he took a look outside recruitment office's window. He was looking into that void of space, like he saw entire past of his people."Did you.... know, that there was once a war before the Great war? I don't know the details... only that the war was caused by Germany current Rheinland. There wasn't Coalition and Alliance that time. At the beginning of the war, Germany asked for part of my land. England and France, current Bretonia and fresh discovered Gallia decided, to avoid that war, that part of Slovakia has to be given to Germany, which caused a lot of pain to my ancestors. And what happened then? The war became even that. This was long time ago I know... and I cant do anything about it now, but this *hit is still around us. As Outcast I cant do anything about it. This war against Corsairs is insignificant to me." he said with his sight already on Commissar. "Please let me fight by your side. To fight capitalism and fascism which spreads its webs among entire Sirius. I am not here for those who died under SRR or Slovakia flag. Im here as pilot who wants to change things, not only looking at them from view of a pirate." he finished. After that he waited on Commissars answer. He resolved to wait, for he had nothing to loose...
Carnage itself flying within void... Proud cardihead ever since 2008...
You all gonna eat cardi!
26 year old Ymir Molotov walked into the bar. He gladly noticed that he did not attract too much attention thanks to his nondescript face. He scanned the bar with his dark brown eyes to seek the contact he was supposed to meet. He then noticed a man with a red bracelet and a red star on his jacket.
This is probably him, he thought.
Seating himself next to the man, he carefully looked about and whispered, so only the man could hear him, The heartless tiger does not bleed.
The mans eyes widened in recognition, and he replied with Of course it bleeds. It just doesnt bleed red.
The two made their way to a room in the back that was already set up.
The interview took a glance at Ymirs body. He appeared to be short, maybe 5 feet 6 inches at best, and he was thin and wiry, maybe 120 pounds or so. Looking at his data pad, he picked up his stylus and jotted down Appears physically weak, although credit must be given for having made it all the way here from Erie in a Starflier.
So tell me about where you come from and why you are here, the interviewer said.
Ymir began the tale: Of course, everyone with an ounce of brain knows about the War of Sol. On the verge of defeat, the Alliance members cowardly fled the Solar System. However, on board the Liberty, a man named Krakow Molotov managed to flee to the Sirius Sector. This Krakow was a secret spy for the Coalition, one of many that had managed to infiltrate the various colony chips. He had been told by his commanders to regroup, gather information, and be ready for whenever the Coalition would be reborn.
Keeping his face blank, the interviewer wrote Seems to be somewhat of a storyteller; may have a tendency to give more details than necessary.
The tale continued: I am a descendent of this Krakow Molotov. I was born on and grew up on planet Erie in the Pennsylvania system. My heritage has remained secret throughout generations, passed down only from father to first-born son. My family has been cataloging whatever information they could acquire, and we have waited for the rebirth of the Coalition. Ymir sighed. I am here to complete my ancestors mission. I am here to help bring the goals of the Coalition to fruit, just as my ancestors did centuries ago.
Seems dedicated and honest enough.
The interviewer merely said Flight Experience?
Ymir quickly said Various training simulations and that Starflier.
Definitely not one of his strong points. This one will need lots of training.
What is the Coalition about? The interviewer was interested in the answer.
Ymir looked a bit nervous. The interviewer sensed that he had not expected this question. After a moment of silence, the reply came: To put down the weak, traitorous, and cowardly, and to bring freedom to the oppressed, hard working, and honest men and women.
At least, if nothing, he has no delusions of grandeur. Although he might want to work on his preparations or predictions.
The interviewer stood up. That is enough. We will contact you when a decision is made. Good luck. He watched as Ymir mumbled his thanks and walked out. Might be a tough stretch for this one, the interviewer thought, but what he lacks in skills or abilities, he seems to be determined to join, work hard, and make a difference. This recruit can go either way. The Leadership will know what to do.
... Coalition Military Factory, Zvezdny Gorodok, Omega 52 System ...
Dmitri Brezhnev stood at a control console in the military shipyards on Zvezdny Gorodok, just one part to the factory line that generated a continuous supply of vessels for the Coalition. It was a simple job, not demanding physically or mentally, and certainly not living up to the excitement of his previous occupation... but the people of the Coalition all did their part, regardless of how boring it was. He hit the button on the console again as a new sheet of durasteel loaded into the mold in front of his console, pressing the panel into the shape of a Partisan wing under thousands of pounds of pressure.
With the noise of the factory, he didnt hear the man approaching him from behind, and spun around ready to fight when he was startled by a tap on his shoulder. Old training doesnt fade easily, but he showed enough self restraint to prevent breaking the man's arm.
"Dmitri! Relax, comrade, it is only me! Haha, you still have the touch, dont you?" The man was Vasily Tupolev, his partner from former work, and the one who had gotten him this job after Dmitri quit.
Dmitri sighed and patted him on the shoulder, "Dont scare me like that Vasily, I could have killed you!" He shifted his attention back to the mold, hitting another button to move the wing down the line and load another panel in.
Vasiliy smiled, "Dmitri, this is my last day working here... I want you to meet me at the bar by the docks, after work, ok?"
Dmitri nodded, "Da, I could use a drink, I'll be there in an hour."
---
... People's Tavern, Zvezdny Gorodok, Omega 52 System ...
Dmitri approached Vasily at the bar, taking a seat beside him and motioning at the the man behind the bar to bring him a bottle of Vodka. He rotated his stool to face Vasily, "So, Comrade... where are you off to? A new factory, politiks, retirement?"
Vasily shook his head as he took a drink, "No Dmitri, I have been chosen to work for our glorious Coalition Army! I am leaving tomorrow, to work as a mechanic on the Typhoon Severstal! Excellent news, da?"
Dmitri nodded with a smile and took a swig from the bottle, "Good news indeed, old friend! I wish you many victories, but dont get yourself killed out there, ya?"
Vasily chuckled, "You should join, Dmitri. They take care of everything for you, and with our experience and service the recruiters consider us valuable assets, you know."
Dmitri took another drink and nodded, somewhat absent-mindedly as he thought about the prospect, "You know, Vasily... I think I will, factory work just isnt for me, I want excitement again..."
---
... Coalition Army Recruitment Office, Zvezdny Gorodok, Omega 52 System ...
Dmitri approached the door to the recruitment office, stopping momentarily as it swished open and allowed him entry. The recruiter, an aged man of significant rank, sat back with his feet propped up on his desk. He spoke in a low, bellowing tone, "Another potential pilot, or soldier, ya? Come right in! You can fill your application out at the terminal over there."
He pointed to a row of terminals along the side of the room. Dmitri sat down at the closest one and began to type in his information...
Applicant Name: Dmitri Brezhnev
Applicant Age: 29 Years
Applicant Birthplace: Zvezdny Gorodok
Applicant Height: 5'11"
Applicant Weight: 160 Pounds
Applicant Hair Color: Brown
Applicant Eye Color: Brown
Previous Occupations:
Served seven years with the Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti, Committee for State Security
Current Occupation:
Factory Worker, Coalition Shipyard on Zvezdny Gorodok
Relevant Training at previous Occupations which may apply to service with the Coalition:
Light Arms Training, Insurgency and Counter-Insurgency Training, Secure Communications and Espionage Experience
He hit the submit button and waited as the terminal sent his information.
Commander Eugen Weise walked into the office, pistol already drawn. Lined up in front of the desk were four potentials. One, an old Coalition Land Forces Colonel, saluted as he entered. Eugen returned it sharply, then took a seat behind the desk. His medals gleamed, his boots shone like black glass, and the mouth of the pistol he laid on the desk seemed as large as the barrel of a battleship cannon.
"So Comrades. You think you have what it takes to join the Glorious SCRA? You think you have the right to fly alongside the living heroes of our age? You think that you posses the moral fibre and outright courage to one of us?"
As the applicants looked at him, dumbfounded, he stood and smiled. With a small titter, he pointed his weapon at the first man in line.
"Comrade Ymir Molotov. You are hereby accepted into the SCRA Fighter Corps. Go, now, and be fitted for a flightsuit before you begin your training."
As Molotov ran from the room, he turned the weapon to the second man in line.
"Samuel O'Altaris. Despite your rather detailed and improbable story, it has been decided that you are indeed most likely a spy, and we don't like spies. We don't like them at all..."
As O'Altaris opened his mouth to protest, Eugen fired three rounds from the massive weapon, and filled his mouth with lead.
"Hehe! I love that part... Comrade Colonel Grigor Linsky. It is my regret to inform you that your senior age, and extreme injuries, not to mention a possible touch of Stockholme Syndrome from your internment by the Corsairs, has rendered you unfit for further military service. Go, and enjoy what life remains to you."
As the ex-Colonel turned, downcast, and wandered hopelessly from the office, Eugen turned to the final man.
"Now... Dmitri. Tell me, Comrade Brezhnev, are you aware that it is an unpardonable crime to lie on your application to the glorious SCRA?"
As the candidate glared and began to speak, Eugen slapped him across the mouth with the pistol. Several teeth flew to the floor, along with some blood. Dmitri's hands flew to his mouth, only to find Commander Weise's foot slamming into his balls. As he fell to the floor, landing in a puddle of blood from the previous unfortunate, Eugen loomed over him, pistol leveled.
"Comrade Brezhnev. The KGB was dissolved at the order of the Grand Admiral immediately upon taking power from the capitalist traitor, Chancellor Aeon. It's assets were folded into the GRU, and thusly came under the Grand Admiral's direct control. Last year, the Grand Admiral declared that the KGB never existed, never will, and that indeed, the concept of there ever being a Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti is a traitorous thought. Coming in here, and filling in such heresies on a recruiting form? You must want to die!"
Eugen emptied the remainder of the .65 rounds into the applicants face, then holstered the smoking pistol.
Jack Handey Wrote:I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
![[Image: sig-9566.jpg]](http://www.clintonio.com/sig-9566.jpg)
![[Image: 101st-banner-captain.png]](http://i701.photobucket.com/albums/ww15/dnicu/101st-banner-captain.png)
![[Image: Tenacity.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Tenacity.gif)