Hellfire Legion Recruitment Center - Closed.

[Echo 7-7]

What is your name?
Dane Kinnaird.

How old are you?
27 Sirius standardised years.

Write a brief description about your build and combat skills.
I assume you're not that interested in my body here. Though if you want to know, I fit into my own cockpit with plenty of room to spare, and I'm quite fit. My height is 5'10".

My combat skills are primarily in the realm of flying fighter craft. Unfortunately, I have little real experience in flying bomber craft, but I have sound knowledge of the theory behind it. In terms of larger vessels, I was a gunner on board a Hacker gunboat for a short while, and I piloted the ship when the captain was off-duty.

Currently, I am working on improving my electronic warfare skills - nothing is sweeter than seeing an opponent's ship lose power and begin to drift while they are locked out of their own controls. The foundations of my skills here come from none other than the Lane Hackers.

At the moment, my personal ship is a Bayonet, which I bought from the Hackers discount after some years of working with them and gaining their trust.

What are your reasons for joining us?
Well, there's only so much of the past eight years I can squeeze into this document. They key turning point in my career; nay, my life, was due to an incident while I was a cadet at West Point Academy.

As you probably know, towards the end of their tenure at West Point, cadets are given their own ship and sent out into the Badlands and told to go beat up some Rogue grunts.

Well, the day came when it was time for our "greenie run". I, with a dozen other pilots cruised out into the Bad's, planning on getting a few easy kills and returning home triumphant. We were divided up into three squadrons; two of four Defenders and one of five Defenders. They were Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot respectively, and each of us was assigned a number. I was Echo Seven.

Usually, the Navy likes nice even numbers for their rosters, but they made an exception with our group, since we had one special guy with us, who just happened to be the nephew of a current Fleet Admiral. Everyone had heard the talk; some day he too would be the captain of a Navy capital ship like his predecessors. I just hated him, since he was so darn arrogant. He was in the squadron of five, just to be sure. The academy instructors would hate to lose such a 'promising' pilot.

Anyway, we cruised out there, and things were quiet. Just a bit too quiet. My squadron and I, we were starting to get that awful feeling where you know something bad is waiting to happen. It turned out that our instincts were right.

An hour in, we received a comms report that Foxtrot had picked up a bunch of signals on scanners, and were moving to investigate. Minutes passed in silence as we waited, preparing to change course if necessary. Then we heard that Foxtrot had encountered a group of smugglers, loaded up with illegal drugs and headed for Manhattan. Eager for a slice of the kill, we changed to an intercept course.

Then, death struck my squadron. Out of the asteroids came a pair of Rogue ships of a class heavier than we'd been expecting to encounter, lead by a single Outcast ship. Johnny in Echo Six was vaporised before any of us had time to react. Knowing that we were outclassed, Echo Five, our squadron leader, called in for backup. The reply we got made my blood run cold. Delta squadron was tasked to assist Foxtrot with the Smugglers, they said. We were on our own.

Fuelled by adrenaline and terror, we flew like we'd never flown before. Our combined fire crashed one of the Rogue's shields, and a lucky missile shot from Echo Eight crisped the pilot. But Marco's laughter was the last thing we heard as the Outcast shredded his Defender.

Desperately, we tried every frequency available, but we received no response from West Point. We were running low on Batteries, and we had little time until we were overwhelmed.

Echo Five and I thought we were goners for sure, until our salvation arrived. Three Defenders from Delta squadron, having heard our desperate pleas for help, broke ranks and flew to assist us, barely in time. They managed to cripple the other Rogue, and drove off the Outcast, but not before Echo Five's shields collapsed. The pirates' parting gift was a cluster of mines which punched holes in his hull.

Determined not to lose another friend, Delta Two and I performed an emergency EVA to pull Five from the wreckage of his burning defender. We had just got him clear when a micro-asteroid punctured my suit and shattered my right hip. I was lucky to not have been thrown clear of the ship. Thankfully, my tether held, and I managed to get back inside my own fighter.

When we returned to West Point, our anger fell on deaf ears. The instructors were all celebrating the 'hero' from Foxtrot that took down the big bad smuggler. I had no doubt that they had ordered Delta to ensure Fox-One's safety. If he had been killed, there would have been reprimands; they didn't give a flying'€¦ rat's behind if some unknown kids got killed.

All of this began to reveal to me convoluted hierarchy of the Liberty Navy which was full of deceit and lies in order to keep the current head families in power. After some weeks in sick bay, and one artificial hip later, I quit the Navy.

I never stayed anywhere too long. The Freeports, run by the Zoners, became familiar places to me. As the years passed, I became more and more bitter about the hypocrisies of the Navy's hierarchy; hatred towards those who send green recruits and fools to their deaths simply to maintain their own status quo. I lived my life from moment to moment, not caring much about the future but how I would survive comfortably from one moment to the next.

For a while, I flew with a pack of Rogues, leeching off unguarded convoys to survive, but my personal aspirations increased. I joined with a team of Hackers, and that certainly brought some higher return. The older guys were generous enough to teach me a few tricks about disrupting trade lanes, and the locations of some key jump holes. However, several months ago, the group split when the boss was vaporised by a cruiser patrol in the Cortez system, and we all went our separate ways. I've been doing independent contracts and solo work since then to survive.

Now, I've had enough. It's time for payback. Time for some real justice.

How would you joining the Hellfire Legion benefit us?
I would be another man, another ship to fight the good fight. I know what's necessary. We have to do this if we are to save Liberty from itself, and I would hope to be a valuable addition to your fleet. Not to mention, it's a personal thing. If I meet that guy again, I'll kill him with my bare hands.

***OOC PART OF APPLICATION***
Have you ever been sanctioned before?
No.

Do you have Skype?
Yes. strokonator