Akeem Johnson stepped off the small transport, carrying nothing more than his clothes and a small cane, which he obviously didnt need for walking. He was huge, standing nearly seven feet tall, the Omega 42's sun glared off his dark ebony colored skin. An oddity in today's society. He walked down several backstreets, trying not to gain attention, but his heritage and large stature made him stand out, he moved into the back parts of the city, where not many people roamed the streets openly, every hundred maters or so he would stop and consult a small yellow slip of paper, finally he came to a perfectly unremarkable door in a perfectly unremarkable building. He sighed and looked back down at his paper for a moment, reading instructions, after a time he looked back up, beating on the door with his heavy fist five times, a slow steady beat, then he whispered next to the edge, so he could be hear by the person he hoped was on the other side.
"Для витка, для красного рассвета. Я желаю дать мои жизнь, лимб, почетность, и искусство"
His pronunciation is perfect and he says the words correctly, but his accent is off, in fact, had he been speaking common english, he could have been mistaken for a Xeno. He stood patiently in the street, waiting for the answer that was supposed to come.
Some say that he is allergic to a fungus found only between the toes of Corsairs,
and that he is oblivious to 98% of Liberty Law. All we know is... He's called the Busdriver!
A panel slides open with a loud hiss in the middle of the steel door, revealing a pair of eyes now staring through it. It continued for a moment, before the panel was closed shut again, and the door opened with a audible creak. A rugged, stumpy officer came out in a drab uniform, smoking a rather large and thick cigar. He looked up at the man before him, smoked a puff ring in his face, then smirked. The large man was quite puzzled now, but before he could ask what was going on the officer puffed another ring of smoke in his face, then simply exclaimed:
- "Too old."
Then he spun on his heel, went back inside and slammed the door shut behind him straight in the man's face. As the man stood there puzzled, he tried lifting his fist and knocking again, but before his hand even touched the steel of the door a voice growled through the speaker mounted on top of it.
- "Don't even try touching this door again, space monkey."
Akeem stood, puzzled, facing the door. Deciding that it was a test, he turned back, and stood in front of the door, clutching his cane. After several hours of waiting under the scorching sun, the panel opened, and a different set of eyes stared out. Squinted and bloodshot, they were accompanied by the smell of cheap vodka and cheaper cigars.
The door opened again, and a different officer emerged into the light. Taller and slimmer than the last, he shaded his eyes with one hand, and held a length of broomstick in the other.
"Go on then! Get! Sod off, bub! Too Old!"
He proceeded to prod the man with his broomstick a couple of times, before turning about and slamming the door behind him.
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.
He perks an eyebrow, taking a step back and hefting his cane, looking at it
"Why the hell do I carry you these days? Here I am, barely twenty fiive and carrying my father's cane 'round with me like a security blanket...
The huge black man scratched his small dark goatee for a second then turned, tossing his old heirloom over his shoulder listening to it bounce off the door with a ping he tooks a few steps forward and stopped, thinking "I've worked six monthes to get this meeting, I'll be damned if im gonna walk away because they dont like my stick.."
With that he turned back about and watched the door intently from the other side of the street, slightly warey of the violent tendencies of the Coalition.
Some say that he is allergic to a fungus found only between the toes of Corsairs,
and that he is oblivious to 98% of Liberty Law. All we know is... He's called the Busdriver!
The door hisses open, and the second officer exposes his eyes to the sun, examining the man leaning on the wall across the street. With a snort, he grabs a stungun from under his greatcoat, and shoots the man in the chest. As he falls to the ground, drooling and twitching, he turns back inside.
As the door begins to close, the recruiter yells "Too Young" over his shoulder.
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.
The huge man's twitching body bakes in the sun for the entire afternoon, his nervous system successfully interupted and eventually his body makes enough of a stink he has to be disposed of.
Some say that he is allergic to a fungus found only between the toes of Corsairs,
and that he is oblivious to 98% of Liberty Law. All we know is... He's called the Busdriver!
Dmitri grabbed the pistol from Commander Weise as it was pulled on him, disarming the recruiter and dismantling the weapon within a second. "What the hell do you think you're doing, trying shooting your own people?"
He gripped the barrel covering of the pistol in his hand in anger, having to restrain himself from hitting the man upside the head with it. "You think you work for the greater good of our people, acting like this? Like an arrogant pig?" He spit at the ground, "You should join the capitalists we're fighting, you certainly act like one."
Dmitri tossed the weapon at the commander's feet, "To hell with you, I do more for the cause here than you will ever do out in space."
He promptly left the room, with several of the other recruits backing down to follow him. They wanted to fight the enemy, and it was honorable to die for your country in battle... dying at the hands of a fat fascist recruiter gave one no honor.
//Koolmo, I find it somewhat hypocritical that you request nobody metagame in the first post of this thread, yet you're sitting here doing it yourself with nearly every reply. If you want to kill someone, fine, but dont make up a bunch of bullshit that has never been posted on these forums as justification for your actions. You're not the only one that can metagame around here, but it certainly doesnt make you look good as a faction leader.
//Tenny, he can and does whatever he wishes in this thread, didnt you read the disclaimer at the begining? So take your issues to flood, and have a nice day. On a more noteworth and amusing note://
A young man only in his late teens stumbled upon several men dragging off the body of a large dark colored man in the back alleys of the city, he knew he had no business being there, but was slightly curious anyway, he crouched low and followed them as they dumped the body in a nearby dumpster. At this point, though, he had no further plan and he fumbled, looking this way and that before diving around a corner. Too slow, the men came around the corner and confronted him, he grinned sheepishly up at them, sitting on his sore buttocks and stuttering.
"Oh..um..hehe... Hi?"
Some say that he is allergic to a fungus found only between the toes of Corsairs,
and that he is oblivious to 98% of Liberty Law. All we know is... He's called the Busdriver!
Grigory walks to the Commisar's office, a look of eagerness on his face.Grigory then knocked on the door, and got permission to enter. He looked at the commissar and all of the glorious deeds that he could do under the command of such people flashed through his mind. Grigory wasted no time in voicing his intention.
"Здравствуйте Comrade! I would very much like to join the SCRA and bring down these corrupt and terrible governments. The Proletariat deserve to rule much more than these dogs. The Bundschuh have treated me well, and had similar goals to what I did, but now that I have found my people again, I would pledge my life and soul to furthering our cause! I wish to spread our movement, to even the edges of the Border Worlds! No one shall stand in our way! All I need is your acceptance, and I will gladly take up arms to drive out our enemies!"
The Commissar looks up from his paperwork, scowls, then smiles. The smile, although not natural looking, appears to sincere. Standing, he waves the candidate to a chair, then begins to pace around him.
"So Comrade, you have served with our brothers in the Bundschuh then? Tell me, what did you do there? Who did you fly with? Do you know of the Hero of the Revolution, Comrade Commander Eugen Weise? He once flew with them as well."
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.
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