Bretonian Armed Forces Recruitment Centre (iRP)

[deepsircar]

The recruiter looked up at the thin, tall bespectacled man standing in front of him. Nothing about him looked dangerous. In fact, he seemed to be the most peaceful man you'd see.

Then, he noticed more. The man was still. Very still. Not something that came out of laziness, or sloth. The stillness of a patient man.. a hunter.. a sniper, with an absolutely balanced mind, or an absolute sense of purpose.

"Well, mister..Professor, do I read this right? You wish to apply for a place in the BAF?"

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

"Because there are no more Land Herons in Cambridge."

"What?"

The man sighed. "Do you remember the Molly raid on the Shire peninsula, in Cambridge 4 years ago? Of course not. It barely made headlines. They dropped some mutagens.. the fools didn't know what they were dealing with. The Herons have been wiped out.
They were one of the most beautiful creations of the universe. More to the point, they harboured the Marburg flies, which cross pollinated the Iberian wheat that they grow on Cambridge. Cambridge will face a famine in 2 years. 3 million will die, I estimate."

"And you will personally take them on? What makes you think that you can?" grinned the recruiter."Have you ever flown a fighter?"

"No. Oh, I've read your manuals. It is not rocket science. Coming to think of it, well, it might be. I've also read ' Battle of Britain, the History', 'Basic Aerial manouevering tactics', 'Autobiography of Otto Han- Fighter ace.. you know, if you combine a 3 wingman tactic as was first used in the 3 rd Battle of the Yoda cloud"

"Ok Ok" The recruiter said hastily."I'll see what I can do. Come back tomorrow."

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