He spotted some mousy-looking Gaul enter the room. He immediately pointed a finger at the man and gave a bellow."You there!"
His hand flipped over, that same finger curling in a ' come here ' gesture as he narrowed his eyes at the latest victim. A small smirk crosses his face as he gain's the new muppet's attention."Get over here Muppet and let's get this done with!" the man sneered."And hurry it up, preferably BEFORE McIntosh rises from his crypt!" he ordered/taunted. The man obviously both loved and hated his job...The question is which one was dominant in the Commissar's mind?
Michel saw the Commissar's gesture, and promptly followed him. "Right behind you, sir." he said.
Nevertheless, he kept the same expression he had had until then.
The Commissar led them into one of the offices, like every other one it was very spartan in design, blank steel-gray walls, a single table with two chairs and not much else. This was clearly a room not designed to be 'friendly' or 'comfortable'. Even the chairs reflected this, a pair of metal chairs with little-to-no cushioning. The Commissar pointed to the seat closer to the door and his tone turned to iron.
"Sit Muppet."
He did not even wait for a response before taking the other seat, taking out his pistol and checking it over carefully with a practiced eye. It was an ancient design but effective, one of Volgograd Industrial's early 'reproductions' upon request before they shifted fully to modern ordinance. Another Commissar followed in not long after he sat down, handing the older man a folder before snapping off a sharp salute and leaving the room.
Opening it up he scoffed as he read through it.
"So...Mr De Gas. De Goose or whatever...You know what I see in this folder?"he asked, however he did not give the man a chance to respond before he plowed onwards."I see the very definition of useless." he mockingly finished, snapping the folder closed sharply and looking at Michel right in the eyes.
"This is your chance to prove me wrong however Muppet, I know you are so excited!" the mocking continued onwards as the Commissar adjusted the pistol in his hand, no-longer partially occupied with the folder and smiled 'warmly' at the man across from him."So, here's how this is going to work. I ask questions, you answer the best way a muppet like you can, first question!"he shouted the last part, his tone gaining a slight edge to it.
Michel took the seat while observing and listening to the commissar.
As he asked "Why are you here?", he gave a clean and direct answer:
"To fight for the Army, sir. I am born and grown as a pilot, as a fighter. Ever since I fought against those damn Royalists under the Council flag -and I speak of nearly ages ago- I never found people with solid ideals and goals around Sirius, and I don't plan to return to Gallia any moment. The SCRA has everything I was looking for ever since. I want to prove myself in it, even if I have to spill blood, tears and sweat for it.", he answered the Commissar, still retaining his calm demeanor.
The response was not promising, a scoff and shaking of the head was the immediate reply to Michel's statement. Slamming his free hand on the desk he gave the man across from him a dry expression." You were 'grown'?"the Commissar asked incredulously, an eyebrow raised questioningly. [color=yellow]" I'm sorry I didn't realize you were a plant from Gaia that needed sunshine and water." he mocked before leaning back into his metal chair.
"Muppet I've heard every sob story out in Sirius and than some. You are to be honest not a pristine snowflake that's unique, still I've heard worse stories out there. We even got a guy once who claimed h was an alien and wanted to join...He didn't make it very far before the Ministry of Truth used heavy ordinance on him."he commented nonchalantly."Moving on Muppet, the De Gaulle and the Council who joined our people all had trouble adapting to our culture at first, tell me something, can you honestly say you could work with Sirians?" he paused briefly before continuing
Michel noticed the Commissar's expression and gestures, but didn't waver a bit even after it slammed his hand on the table. After listening to the question the Commissar posed him, he answered:
"I can work with anyone, sir. In my days as Freelancer I got used to work with anyone, from Kusarians to Cretans and so forth. In a nutshell, I have no problems working with a Sirian, even though we can have different origins and cultures. "
"It is one thing to say it, but another to do it. But we'll give you the slight benefit of the doubt for now muppet." he comments before he moves onwards to the next question.
"Alright Muppet, here's a scenario for you to consider: You are on a long-range patrol in the Tau Theater, you come across a significant convoy of Outcast vessels baring Cardamine headed to Liberty. What course of action do you take?"
At the Commissar's question, Michel remained silent for a few seconds, then, pondering his words, he gave his answer:
"As I am both outnumbered and outgunned, I would make a tactical retreat, as alone I wouldn't be able to stop the convoy; yet, I would scan and register every single ship of the convoy, escorts included, in order to relay as much intel as possible to the HQ. This is the course of action I'd take, sir."
Alright, not bad. But he still had one card left up his sleeve, time to make or break this Muppet.
Making a show of clapping his hands in a slow and obviously sarcastic manner he grinned widely, his pearly whites showing as he grinned mockingly.
"Alright Muppet, you are obviously not a brain-dead, cardamine addled idiot from Malta, I have one more scenario for you before we are done here. Pray you get it right because my trigger-finger is getting particularly itchy!" He warned lightly before setting up the scenario.
"You have a friend in your squad, a nervous little muppet who has to be coaxed by you to perform his duties. One day he makes a mistake right infront of you that costs the Coalition time and equipment. He is your friend and you have plenty of opportunity to cover up the mistake or even blame it on the enemy in some manner. What do you do?"
That was a quite tricky question for Michel, but retaining his same calculating demeanor, he gave his lapidary and freezing answer:
"He made the mistake, he pays for his mistake, simply put.
Bare with me though - I do value friendship, even more within comrades. But I cannot tolerate a mistake that could not only waste the Coalition's time and equipment, but to put my very squad at harm. I would PERSONALLY bring him to my wing commander and report on his actions and mistakes. What happens after, I won't care
I might sound a goddamn cynical bastard Gaul talking like this, but that is what I'd do.
No cover-ups or blaming the enemy. Everyone has to face his responsibilities in the SCRA."
