SCRA Recruitment Centre

[Inquisitor Gaunt]

The Molly continued to track the cruiser, hammering at its shields whenever they managed to give a strangled revival.

"From what I can tell, it ain't the accumulation a'wealth that's so bad, but keepin' it f'yourself's a different story..."

The cannon continued to refire, cycling a consistent fwump of the gun's discharge followed by its power's floodgates opening, to recharge the weapon's capacitors.

"Believe me, sir, that ain't just a communist thing, 'at's just comradary in general, oi? If you're workin' alongside the same bloke in some gakin' mine, day in, day out, y'get close to em, don't'cha? When we was workin' for the BMM, a paycheck wasn't an opportunity to buy y'self some fancy three hundred inch flat-screen TV, it meant y'housin' block was gonna' eat for the night, then you 'oped that HR didn't stiff ya' on the next one, in case y'let y'buddies down."

He continued to track the target he'd been assigned, the shield generators under great strain now to reboot while the Trotsky continued to hammer at its hull.

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