SCRA Recruitment Centre

[jammi]

Julio Quinetillia halted in front of the recruiting office door, pausing to take in the sights and sounds of the surrounding corridors. There were several blood trails leading from the room, graphically adding illustration to the stories that the Commissariat would execute any spy or otherwise morally corrupt scum that attempted to infiltrate the People's Army. The efficiency with which the blood trail owners must have been exterminated made Julio's chest swell with pride.

Breathing deeply to calm his racing heart, he knocked crisply three times before opening the door and marching in, calling back drill training from the days he had belonged to the Revolutionary Youth, a cadet organisation the Coalition had run on Crete in years past. That had been before the obscene mockery of a Regime that was the Corsair Council had recognised the threat the SCRA had posed to their corrupt and class-steeped ways.

He murmured the timings to himself under his breath. Left, right, left, right (halt) check - one - two, IN! His polished boots slammed to a halt, slightly blemishing the surface by throwing up a light spray of blood. Then a salute to honour the comrade-Commissar's rank and a return to standing to attention. Only after this did Julio notice the bodies that lay littered around the room in various states of mortal existence, and the two other recruits that stood nearby.

"Hola Comrade-Commissars! Julio Quinetillia ready and willing the serve the Revolution!" The three officers turned to glare at him, one leaning on the desk holding a kebab, one standing with a large side-arm in his hand and the other seated behind the desk: Captain Thorvaldsson, Commissar-Captain Gorodetsky and Commander Weise. From the smell of the alcohol fumes coming from one or the other, they may well have exploded had someone lit a lighter under their noses.

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