'My name is Vitali Kir and I want to give something back to the nation that gave me everything I ever needed' the young man said. 'Joining the Revolutionary Army will provide me with the means to do so and I am asking you, Commissar, for an opportunity to prove myself'. Vitali knew the Commissar was a man of few words so he stopped talking waited for an answer
After some time on the medical station, Milan was finally able to walk again and most of his injuries were gone. He started to finish the paperwork, which took him quite some time. After he finished it he returned to the recruitment office and returned the document.
Mendel contemplated Vitali Kir before him, cautiously.
Something was bothering him... something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
One thing Mendel didn't like, it was that gut feeling that something just didn't add up. It was part of being a Commissar charged with protecting the Coalition, the right hand to the Premier himself.
He lit another cigarette and glanced at Boris, making a subtle gesture.
The burly Marine clubbed the recruit across the back of the head with his shotgun. Picking him up by the scruff of his neck and driving him down on the metal table so hard it buckled the legs.
Mendel blew another smoke ring, "I believe I have found myself a spy... Boris?"
Boris drew a sharp knife, using it to cut the man's shirt open so that they could see if he was wearing any kind of communication equipment.
Mendel pursed his lips, leaning forward. "Someone needs to do some more calisthenics I think... a little flabby round the middle. Who do you work for?"
He drew his pistol and calmly reloaded the magazine.
William Preston entered the interview room. He was a man in his thirties. He just stood there, looking at the room. Then he came closer to the table in the middle, not minding the man lying on the floor.
He looked around one more time and looked at Mendel with a confident look ...
Name's Bill. I came to redecorate.
He pulled out his gun, shot himself in his right temple and dropped dead. He left a rather interesting blood splatter on the wall.
Mendel watched the man fall to the ground, newly ventilating his own skull.
"You'd be surprised at how often that happens around me," Mendel commented to Boris. "No matter, saves me the bullet. Now then where was I, oh yes... Spy..." he extinguished his cigarette on the spy's hand. "You were going to tell me who you worked for... before Boris there performs exploratory surgery to find your secret listening device..."
Boris chuckled ominously still pinning the spy to the table.
Mile opened the door, saw a quite large man holding down one man pinned to the table and anther sitting on a chair on the other side of the table.
He looked for a second, and said: "You the large man, take your fist 2 inch down, it hurts more."
he made an apology for interrupting and left the room, he continued sitting on the chair near the door. patiently.
Mendel tapped the spy on the nose, "I will be right back, pudding cup..." he walked around the table and out of the door, into the reception.
"Hurt more," he said going behind Alicia's desk and fetching a bottle of liquor she always kept there for dealing with especially bad days, he noted that she'd been drinking from it today. He'd have to replace the bottle.
He straightened up, putting it on the reception desk and lighting a cigarette, smiling warmly. "Mile, you seem to be a person that knows a great deal about pain, right?" he puffed lazily on the cigarette. "I mean, familiar with the inner workings of it and all?"
He fluidly drew his pistol and blew both the mans kneecaps off.
"I understand about pain quite well, my friend," he stated unscrewing the bottlecap and pouring the liquid over the cursing, bleeding man. "In fact I think I am going to give you a demonstration in true pain here, you see this is pretty potent liquor... and this..." he pulled the cigarette from his mouth. "Is a cheap cigarette, on their own... not so impressive... but in combination..." he tossed the cigarette onto a particularly wet spot. Watching the liquor ignite and quickly engulf the man in flames. "Is what we call... effective delivery of pain..." he shook his head as he got up, warming his hands on the fire, as the screaming man flailed about on the floor. Alarms resounding somewhere aboard the ship to the fact that there was a fire.
"Alicia, be a dear and fetch me some marshmallows?"
'Damn ! Good thing I took about 10 painkillers before coming here. I guess I am the lucky one, da?' said Vitali looking at the dead body in the middle of the room. Then he looked at Boris: 'Who the hell are you and where is the Commissar? I had a dream about him saying I am a spy or something'¦'