I open an eye… Oh Joder! Torrential vapours kick, inability to look straight, struggling… I’m going to puke. I fall down to sleep again. I’m conscious, I think… I hear a high pitch noise. Is it in my head? I can’t tell. My ideas aren’t clear. I’m desperate for some water. Where am I? How the hell did I end up in this cockpit? I don’t own a ship eh… Is this planet Crete?
Rivers of different sensations is passing through my body, none of them are nice. I can’t have a clue on what happens last night. Mierda… I’m wasted. How the hell do I open that canopy? Just open you... I quit, I’m unable open it. And where does that alarm noise come from? I need to wake up. I can’t believe this! The opening button was right there. Oh my god fresh air! Relief. Oh demonic alcohol. I can’t hold you down, I can’t hold you up. What have you done with me again this time? Alright Benedicto Haje! Time to use your nerve cells for once. Why are you in a ship that’s not yours and why are you on Crete? I obviously crashed here. And what type of ship is this? A Praetorian? What? Why am I in a combat ship? Who the hell does this ship belongs to? How could I know? That hang over isn’t really helping. The transponder! I’ll check that. It must reveal at least what IFF is being displayed. Oh no! Did I really steal a [TBH] ship! I’m a dead fried meat. Holy Mierda that is the worst thing I could ever do in my 31 years delightful life as a ship thug. I need to think quickly and figure a way to give the ship back. TBH ship… TBH ship… Rum! There must be some left inside the bay. At least I won’t die hanging over. A la salud! Haha! All seems better now! This day is going to be great! Geez, that Rum gives me the buzz. Now let’s save myself! I’ll bring this ship to their recruitment center and pretend I’m one of their new recruit pilots. God I’m so clever. Let’s do this!
- Full name: Benedicto Haje - Age: 31 - Your skills: bomber/fighter basic fighting techniques - Reason why you choose us: Explore new factions in disco. - Your biography: The little Benedicto was born on 791. or at least, was found in an airlock that year. Let’s say that this newly starting novel took place in one of the Crete’s orphanages then. It’s not that important anyway, as his parents had probably say one day. Hopefully, the blood tests were positive and the cutie Benedicto could live there as a pure meat Corsair orphan. Despite this slight disadvantage in life, Benedicto successfully finished the orphanage’s school at the age 12 from where he was fired and then become a fine gentleman. Into this house we’re born, into this world we’re thrown as they say, Salud. Soon enough, meeting other young vigorous entrepreneurs on the benches of the streets of Crete, probably not on a morning, Benedictio quickly learned how to pilot ships of many kinds with the help of a devoted reseller. Where this dreamlife could lead him remain unsure, but somehow, somewhere, fate was at work, and the little Benedicto, now a proud accomplished hermano of 31 just wasn’t expecting to wake up from a little hangover in an unusual ship…
![[Image: r45aCEj.jpg]](http://i.imgur.com/r45aCEj.jpg)