A tall young man in his mid 20s exits the shuttle, and takes his first steps aboard the CPW-Trotsky. He couldn't believe it; he was finally here. Pausing for a moment to take it all in, he stares out the glass into space; as he observes the straight and true snub-fighters of the People's Revolution run their drills with finesse and strength. The awe-inspiring sight almost makes him lose balance. Regaining total composure, he takes a deep breath, and proceeds to stride toward the recruitment office. He walked as someone who has been there; as someone who has seen what there is to see; despite his age. Whatever he may be lacking, his true conviction and determination is written all over his face.
Upon entering, he feels a cold chill run down his spine. Undaunted, he proceeds toward the main desk. "My name is Yakov Smirnoff." his words somewhat shaky. "I am here to join the Revolution." After taking a few notes, the receptionist motions him to take a seat, and await the Commissar. For whatever reason, those words strike fear, respect, and a degree of jubilation into the heart of the young potential. As he takes his seat, he recites the words of "My Army" under his breath, as well as his favorite song of all; an old ballad passed down his family for generations entitled "Dark is the Night".
