A short, stocky man walked in to the recruitment center. He brought his arm up to his eyes for a moment, attempting to cover them from the stark change in lighting. The room itself was immaculate, especially for what he had been expecting. Shining white floors, clean, bleached walls, and two large, crimson banners of the Coalition flanking him on either side. At the other end of the room was a large desk, with an empty chair behind it. Taking up positions on either side of the door immediately behind the desk were two guards, wearing full Coalition garb.
The man began to slowly walk toward the desk, taking the time to adjust his bomber jacket. A patch on his right shoulder read "52nd Highlanders, Defense Squadron", with the faded image of two strikecraft flying over a grassy meadow. The left shoulder was more plain, featuring only a worn-out badge of a phoenix rising from the ashes. The only other discernable detail on his flight jacket was a name patch on the front, seemingly reading Jackson Cormack. Another similar patch mirrored the name patch on his other jacket flap was simply too worn to make out.
As he came closer, the guards readied themselves, moving up on him quickly. He kept walking slowly towards the door, raising his hands very slowly as they made their way to him. The one on his left came behind him and took his arms behind his back, while the right-most guard began to pat him down, obviously searching for any devices or weapons. Coming up empty, the guard nodded and went back to his post. The other guard did the same shortly after, leaving Jackson to make his way to the desk. Upon arriving, he began to idle, folding his arms and whistling.
Suddenly, a third guard walked into the room, coming out of the door in front of him. He whispered something to the guard on the right, and then left back through the door. The guard on the right called out to him - "You, there, with me." - and entered the room as well.
