Angie turned a little more pale than she normally was. Her eyes locked on Daemon, narrowing as if to threaten him. If he did screw up, she'd certainly kill him before Alvarez found out.
Her 'color' returned and she reached into the desk, withdrawing the appropriate papers and handing them to him. She brushed past him, quickly whispering, "Better damn well do your best..." And with that, she was gone.
"THE HULL HAS BEEN BREACHED AND THESCIENCEIS LEAKING OUT!"
Daemon finished his Questionnaire and handed it back. He did his best. He hoped that if he did indeed make a mistake that they would simply be minor ones.
The man gasped slightly as the shotgun wielding guard, which appeared to be quite focused on making sure a move on the man's part would result in a hole in his chest, flipped the weapon around, blowing away a nearby man. The resulting mess could only be described as an explosion. There were pieces of that other guy everywhere - the floor, the walls, his own hair. Had he not seen what had just happened, he would have attributed such a mess to a grenade, rather than a simple firearm.
He felt a smal trickle of sweat run down his spine. He wanted to at least say something. A remark on the event that had unfolded before him, perhaps. Maybe a request to let himself wipe a bit of the unfortunate man off of himself?
No, no. Eyes forward, back straight, mouth shut, and wait. He couldn't let something so small break him.
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Adam walked nervously into the recruitment office. He glanced at the bloody mess now on the floor and decided it would be best not to say anything. There would only be one reason he would be here anyways, and perhaps he should wait until the other applicants were... dealt with. He fished around in the pockets of his ragged jacket, making sure he had come unarmed... if he looked ready for a fight, he'd be killed in a snap.
Alvarez nodded with satisfaction at the papers. "Get below... and remember what happens if you mess up, Comrada..."
Walking back to the door, his eyes traveled to the headless corpse, then over to where Master Chief Byk sat, keeping a gun on a recruit.
"I am getting too old for all this loco-crap, homes," he rubbed a hand over his face. "An why do all these recruits look like they're lined up outside a soup kitchen? None of you ever heard of a shower, si, it has water... used for cleaning... nothing?" He rolled his eyes.
"Next one into my office doesn't die a slow, agonizing death!" he gestured at a recruit. "Hurry up, I don't got all day, esse."
' Wrote:Paddy sat down and with melancholy syllables began to utter a response.
"My home was Planet Leeds in the Mullingar district; before the Kusari Blitz," he paused, "But you don't want to hear a tale sorrow-laden of my passage from a distant Aidenn."
"Nothing is noble. Nothing which I have seen, in any case. Kusari destroys my home, Liberty destroys my ship, Bretonia is crumbling, and Rheinland instigates war. The Revolution, I am made to understand, is different; opposed to all the factors which cause such..."
He hesitated at the use of such a cliched word, but decided on its fitting use, "Corruption."
"They've taken everything. The Revolution is my last hope," he sighed in conclusion before quickly adding, "But... Trust me that I'm not simply some rogue, gypsy orphan with a grudge."
He blinked, unsure as to whether or not he answered the question. He fell into the black shawl of his mind and incoherently mumbled a verse from a poem, images of his home quietly haunting his mind;
"There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye-
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass-
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea-
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene."
"...Very poetic. But we're revolutionaries, not poets." She sighed heavily. "Have you had any combat experience whatsoever?"
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