After being covered in a substance he didn't even WANT to identify Ben left the room, glaring at Mendel as he passed him in the hall and headed towards the exit so he can head to Decontamination, muttering curses to himself as he tried to remove small peices of blown up meat and goo from his rather sticky uniform...
Mendel shrugged, taking a moment to shoot Marshall in the leg.
"Don't be so upset Colonel Warner... it could be worse... He..." He pointed to what was left of Warner's recruit, "could have gotten into the fighter corp!"
He noticed the shot to Marshall's leg, checking the time upon the clock again. Six minutes. Now, the realization began to sink in. He was probably going to die. The Coalition was ruthless. Perhaps it was a mistake for him to come, to try and seek a new life - but if it was, he didn't seem to regret it. He accepted it, his eyes observed Alvin Katz, watching him carefully and making no real move to assault him or some such. The panic in his eyes was calming down as he accepted a death.
He gasped, taking in a full breath of the toxic air. He groped at his leg, an rolled onto his back. He watched the ceiling, coughing. "What.... was that for...?", He mumbles, his voice scratchy, bumping up and down in loudness.
Mendel leaned down to look at the recruit that was fluttering on the very limits of human endurance. Producing the pocket respirator he kept on hand, he slipped it into the youth's mouth, roughly pulling him up and pushing him back into a chair.
"Impressive," which through the gas-mask's respirator sounded an awful lot like Darth Vader.
"You get one more chance." There was a pop as Marshall exploded into a splash of goo.
Mendel looked down at his goo stained uniform, sighing. "Next time I go with a biological agent that isn't so... messy."
He would take a sudden breath as it was shoved into his mouth. The realization that he was going to live rushed over him like cool, running water on a hot day. It was refreshingly amazing, but nevertheless, he would pant from the lack of air for an extended period of time. He was dizzy, grunted lightly and moved forward slightly, before straightening back up to regain himself. "T-thank you, sir." He spoke in a panted, relieved voice.
Yuri was struggling with putting on the mask with his free hand, but finally got it on and sealed before the alarms went off. He then stands up and looks around.
Mendel stepped over the corpses, reaching out to tap a few controls, restoring the decontamination system, a rush of fresh and purified air washing out the chemical agent that had proven so effective.
Sweeping off his gas mask, Mendel triggered another switch that caused the overhead sprinklers to engage, washing the goo that had been the unfortunate failed recruits, down the drain. Leaving a spic and span recruitment office.
Wet from head to toe, Mendel ran a hand through his hair and smiled around him.
"Another fine recruiting session... I think that should be it. All of you that have survived, proceed to the Trotsky where Colonel Rhade will begin your flight training... Alicia!"
Alicia stepped out of the side office, shaking her head at him.
"You know... you owe me a trip to the spa to get this crap out of my hair!"
Mendel nodded, "yes dear," he said as he watched her begin to lock the Recruitment office up.
The CPW-Trotsky made her way into the omega systems and placed herself into a safe area. The Civil War caused many soldiers to die, there was the need for new recruits...
Major Doriano sat relaxed in his command chair, while the Trotsky slowly reached her designated position. He shouted for his assistant, Senior-Lieutenant Valentina Koslova.
'Koslova, tell them to activate the signal and report to my office after you are done.'
The Senior-Lieutenant followed the orders, the signal was sent and she returned to the Majors office. She saluted in front of him.
'Major Doriano, the signal was sent, the new possible recruits will arrive shortly...'
The Following Steps shall be followed, on pain of death. We do not tolerate half-heartedness and slackery in the coalition!
Stage 1: Make an application in person to the Recruiting Office aboard the Typhoon Class CPW-Trotsky, filling in all the appropriate information. If at first you are not accepted, feel free to re-apply once you feel the circumstances preventing your admission have been corrected, provided that you are still alive to do so.
All Applications will be made in person, in understandable, well punctuated English. You will be clear and concise. You will not ramble. You will include references, if applicable. You will not tell the Commissar what he is doing, he will tell you what to do. You will die if we order you to, you will live on our whim. You shall learn this, or you shall die.
Stage 2: Be questioned by the duty Commissar. If he does not like your answers, or you answer incoherently, or reveal that you may be a Spy, you shall die.
Stage 3: Fill out the SCRA Questionnaire (PM) Should you fail in the Questionnaire, you shall be terminated.
Stage 4: Once you've been cleared of the above stages, and authorized in SCRA Commnets, you shall be given a Sub-Lieutenancy in the glorious SCRA, and permitted by the grace of your superiors to fly a Partisan Light Fighter. Should you demonstrate that you are not worthy of the trust we have placed in you, we shall kill you with no warning. Let it be re-iterated, the Coalition is not for the weak of heart.
Stage 5: Provided you manage not to prove our trust misplaced, you shall be promoted to full Lieutenant in the SCRA, and granted the rights to fly the other snubfighters, as well as not face the threat of instant death every second of every day. However, if you break our trust, act in a manner inappropriate to the SCRA. Or if you demonstrate behaviour that makes us question your loyalty and commitment to the SCRA/Coalition, you will die!
TROLLS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT.
We reserve the right to refuse entry WITHOUT explanation, to anyone we deem unfit, incapable of working in a team environment, looks funny, looks at me funny, cracks bad puns, smells, uses commas in an incorrect fashion, went to school, did not go to school, eats rice, does not eat rice... oh and if I just plain feel like saying no to you.
A no 9/10 means you will get shot/killed/maimed/or otherwise stuffed into a trash compactor of Kusari design. (only the best for you).
Lachina Murray docked her X-shuttle in the Trotsky's docking bay. She finished her smoke and then noticed that one of the wings is almost falling apart. She swore a little and kept looking around while following a signs to the waiting room. Lachina smiled a little when she finally found it but her it was followed by a quick grin when she muttered to herself "I hope they won't ask me where I got this stupid name."
She entered the room and closed the doors behind her.
![[Image: 5438_s.png]](http://signavatar.com/5438_s.png)
![[Image: Sig.jpg]](http://i1029.photobucket.com/albums/y352/sanford12345/Sig.jpg)
![[Image: LachinaMurray.png]](http://i895.photobucket.com/albums/ac158/Hamilkar/LachinaMurray.png)