He took another pull of his coffee. Speeches. They always had to make speeches. He raised an eyebrow at his own inner monologue - werent we asking them too? History taught of revolutionaries as exemplars of the people, and some of the best examples were natural leaders. Speech making came with being a leader. His lip curled in disgust - revolutionaries, true revolutionaries, were rarely exemplars - they were just people.
"So. You drove a transport - I'm assuming it was pirates and scavengers that you've had to fight off more then once, da?"
"...And with that sort of experience, you wish to take on House Militaries, yes?"
"That is a rather large jump - defending a transport to attacking the might of a house...and what exactly gives you such courage to do so?"
The Russian was obviously right - it was a ridiculous jump to say the least. Not only Otto had trouble with small cockpits - for an obvious reason - he also never got good grades on fighting simulations. What moved him, however, remained consistant.
"My commander used to say when you find fear confronting an enemy, you'll find courage amongst the arms of your nation. I always found those words to be truthful. But when you see with your own eyes that your government fights for the wrong cause, that the very nation it's sworn to protect has been forgotten... It changes you."
Otto exhaled deeply.
"I still love mein Land, sir. That's what gives me purpose and courage to kill any man who still fights for the power over others, and not equality."
After filling out the papers, Eric got up , walking up to the desk and handing them to Alicia, he then returned to his seat to wait for the result, he turned to the other man who was also sitting there.
Where do you put your chances at this point? Im feeling pretty good with it.
He didnt know if the other man would answer or not, yet he still asked him , then sitting normally again , looking through the brochure
"Very well, we will see if you have what it takes."
Rassid pressed a button and spoke into an innercomm system, sending orders off to be carried out.
"I will be honest with you. I have doubts. I doubt you can fit into a fighter cockpit. And I doubt you understand exactly what your signing up for."
"Therefore, you will get some measure of it, with this next test."
The minutes stretched, as Rassid stared into the big recruit. The only silence was broken by rhythmic breathing and the occasional sounds of shipboard life. In time, heavy booted feat walking in unison became louder and louder.
Two Coalition Marines entered the office, dragging a prisoner. He was dressed in rags, and filthy. Disheveled hair and a wild sense to his eyes as he scanned the room. He was flung unceremoniously to the ground, still restrained by thick metal shackles.
"At the moment, this prisoner, who is a corsair, just so you know - is being told that he will win his freedom, and more importantly, a meal, should he kill you with his bare hands. He hasn't eaten in some time, and starvation tends to make a man...very desperate."
A marine spoke in the language of Crete to the prisoner, whose eyes locked on the large recruit with a terrible resolve, and the hint of glee. He knew what his reward was. the marines took steps back, and readied weapons in case the prisoner should attempt and escape, or turn on anyone other then the one he was told to kill.
"A large man like you, should have no problem putting down a starved corsair. If you take longer then 30 seconds, then I will be both surprised, and disappointed."
The Rheinlander listened quietly as the officer said his words. He grew impatient, however. From the beginning he knew that the Russian would have something planned to test his will. Something that would not only prove to the Coalition he was ready, but also to himself. That he got what was needed.
When the prisioner entered the room, his eyes widened. Turning himself to the door and following the body to the ground, Otto had but the moment to explain to himself what he had to do. The expression on the Corsairs face was the one of a rabid dog - his lips wore dry blood, his jaw didn't fit anymore. He had bruises all over. Holzman remembered, however, that that was how any civilian would be treated in the hands of such groups: beaten to death or worse. Slavery, Cardamine addiction, Organ traffic... That was how they treated anyone who crossed them, and the "law" never managed to cure that impulse. Why?
"Beliefs." He whispered to himself.
As the command was given the Corsair flung at him with the strength of a desperate man on the death corridor. Without the iniative, Otto was hit once or twice on his face, for the Corsair wasn't desperate enough to try hitting him on the belly. His hat flew off to one of the sides of the room, showing the large head still had hair all over it.
Five seconds.
Otto was clearly struggling to get a hold of him, but the speed of the Corsair man was too great. He had blood all over his face by this time, probably a broken nose as well. The starving man kept going and going and going, forcing him to step backwards with each punch... until he hit the chairs.
Ten seconds.
By this time the largest of the pair had already given up trying to block every punch and he was just taking them - in the sturdiest way he could manage. As he felt the chairs pushing against his butt, he saw a chance. Struggling against his own blood on his face and nose he closed his eyes and headbutted the pirate so hard he fell to the ground again.
Fifteen seconds.
Otto grasped the chair with his fat fingers with enough strength to feel his bones cracking. Not even seeing straight anymore he swang the chair on the Corsair direction, secretly only trying to find his target. He was lucky at first: The chair hit him right on the gut. On the second time, however, he had already rolled to the side.
Twenty seconds.
The Corsair saw the last chance open up and he took it: He jumped again, this time right on Otto's face, almost bitting one of his eyes off. And then Otto lost it. Throughout the ship a single yell was heard, something between the roar of a bear and a man's voice muffled by hair. On that room, however, the actions were different. Otto now held the pirate with his two hands, away from his own body - save from a part of cheek now hanging on the opponents mouth.
Twenty five seconds.
With the strength he knew he could muster, the Rheinlander threw the Corsair against the closest wall, and watched. Watched as he raised from the ground thinking of home. He remembered the Constance Falls on Baden Baden. The Ludvwig Plains on New Berlin. The Sunset near his home on Hamburg.
What happened next can only be described as a truck hitting a wall.
*Crack!*
Head-to-head, Holzman collided with the Corsair, and the wall behind him. Remainings of the man's brains now seeming to reside there.
Thirty seconds.
Aside from the sound of deep breaths, the room was now silent. Holzman turned his eyes slowly, scanning the room, looking for the officer in charge. The guards near the door, the body laying on his feet, the chair, and, finally, Rassid.
Holzman got a grasp of his hat, quickly while wiping some of the blood on his face off. After getting the papers, on the way out, he looked at the chair, thrown on the ground, and put it back to it's place.
"Verzeihung. For the chair."
He quickly left to fill in whatever were on those papers.
Rassid was on his third cup of coffee. Reading through the returned paperwork from the recruits. The combination of caffeine and anger woul have slowly disintegrated his teeth, if they had not been replaced a long time ago. Either way, his jaw hurt, and his knuckles were white clutching the papers.
After reading through the last, there was a glimmer of hope, but just as easily quashed. He handed the papers over to the Major to read, and activated the intercomm on the desk.
"Tell those idiots to get back in here - all three, right now."
He crossed his arms, a sneer of disgust on his face, tapping the toe of his boot against the steel grating. The caffeine flowing through his veins made every muscle itch, and the rage that flowed like lightning underneath it just made things all the worse - he needed desperately to wrap his hands around the closest throat.
As the recruits entered, he rose to his feet, a bit too fast, betraying some of his murderous intent. He put both hands on the desk and leaned over it, looking at all three.
"I'll be brief. All three of you have failed your written exams. Many of the questions were wrong, or not delivered in the manner with which we required. But...I am a...merciful man..."
The sneer of disgust on his face puckered with the word.
"...So, you have, literally, one final chance. We care not about your ability to kill, or talk, or what pretty words you use to cloak your lies. I don't care how handsome you are, or how fat, or what your IQ is. What I care about, is whether you will be an asset to this cause, or a liability."
His hand clenched on the desk, raking a pile of papers into his fist. It made an odd crunching punctuation to his words.
Sasha removed her hat and detached the star from it, and began to turn it over her fingers, her gaze fixed on the three applicants. Her eyes glanced to the coffee cup held by Rassid, which had been refilled three times already. The man was a ticking timebomb.
"Do impress us, I implore you." Sasha said, resting her cap by her sidearm. "Also, Otto? Congratulations. You nearly made Rassid smile when he saw you. No one has managed to get him to smile. At all."
Otto was the last one to enter the room. Not only his face gone back to a natural color, his nose had also stopped bleeding profusely - something that would have happened only if he either had taken medicine or stupidly snapped it back to it's place. The distance between him an the other recruits cleared whatever had happened.
He stood between the two of them, one step back, arms straight down. He listed, carefully, with few to none emotions to whichever word Rassid said. Once the Russian stopped talking Holzman had a serious look on his eyes. He was adamant that whichever words came next from his mouth would define if he would die fighting or by the hand of the officer.
"Frau Sasha, is it?"
He took a deep breath, still maintaining eye contact with Rassid.
![[Image: rassid.png]](http://dl.dropbox.com/u/43479595/rassid.png)
![[Image: Hasshodo.gif]](http://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Hasshodo.gif)
![[Image: olafgreen.png]](http://img442.imageshack.us/img442/9075/olafgreen.png)
![[Image: ADc1VG0.png]](http://i.imgur.com/ADc1VG0.png)
![[Image: 11ifm38.png]](http://i43.tinypic.com/11ifm38.png)
![[Image: jeremy10.png]](http://i40.servimg.com/u/f40/16/80/35/65/jeremy10.png)