SCRA Recruitment Centre

[aznremix416]

It was not long until Commissar Vorshevsky noticed the cheaply built flight suit the red-headed twat was wearing, also it seemed like he acquired a helmet as well.

Rude.

Why the applicant was wasting Vorshevsky's time was beyond him, however he had just the plan.

"That was the most ridiculous answer I have ever heard in my entire life. Therefore, you do not deserve anymore chances. Good bye, and thanks for playing!"

The Commissar pressed all three buttons on the airlock, releasing the foolish applicant into outer space, however there was just one problem: The man did not die. Instead, the rude applicant began to give Vorshevsky the finger, smirking in triumph as he floats away unharmed. The man had survived.

But not for long.

Back at the Coalition Cruiser Vorshevsky watched the man floating away, still alive and with a idiotic smile on his face. He thought he had won, -thought-. The Commissar quickly activated the ship's intercom.

"Helmsman Trotskina, please rotate the ship approximately 90 degrees please. Make sure the ship's engine faces the direction of the airlock."

The Commissar couldn't help but smile, the applicant thought he had gotten away.

"Fire up those engines." Vorshevsky commanded

A deathly fiery red burst through the engines, incentigrating everything in it's path. The man didn't even had the time to scream and in a matter of seconds, McSteve was nothing more but a crisp, his remains floating into the depths of space. It seems like little McSteve could not have his fun anymore.

---

Recipient of the Hispania Memorium, Golden Fourragere, Halo of Valor, Order of the Red Star, and the Hero of the Revolution