Recruitment office of the Brotherhood ([TBH])

[Wip3outbruce]

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The Brotherhood Recruitment Application:

Name: >>Relegated<<
Call Sign: Wip3out
Age: 24

Skills:
- Transport, Light fighter and Heavy fighter mechanic.
- Stock Market, Market and goods Analyst.
- Proficient in the art of guerrilla warfare and tactics on land, hoping to put that knowledge to use in space battles.

Interest in the Brotherhood:
To re-join my long lost family, the Corsairs. Will be explained in my biography and to exact payment for things done to my immediate family long past.


Biography:
I was born on planet Crete in 793 A.S. My mother was a homely woman, supporting my father and I with everything she had. When my farther would come home from patrol, my mother would always be waiting for him with open arms. My father was a Corsair fighter pilot since the age of 16 when he completed the rite of passage. Being one of the best pilots in space at the time, he quickly grew in stature and rank. That made him a target.

The invasion of the Nomads in 800 A.S. brought lots of heartache to the Corsairs and my family. I always say my father was killed the day when he was infected by the Nomads. I however was not so lucky to see him die that day. Instead I had to experience the repugnance of the Nomad creature in my father’s body. I watched in horror as the creatures blue tentacles ripped thru his jaw, tearing the flesh apart, blood splattering on the floor and the wails of terror my mom was screaming as it reverberated and echoed off of the walls of our home. Having nothing else to do except protect my only family left, my mother, I raced to my dad’s bedside drawer and ripped the blaster from its hinges. The sound of the gunshot and the lament of the nomad creature dying inside my farther will be with me for the rest of my life. I was glad my farther taught me from a young age how to use a blaster, if not I would have lost my mother too.

Having no one to care for us, my mother joined one of the smugglers on their trade route to Liberty Pennsylvania with me in tow. She always saw too much in those posters. The promises. The freedom that is Liberty. The system of opportunity. Alas, when all things came to reality, we were working like common slaves for a rich family. Barely making enough to feed ourselves. Just another misconception Liberty likes to keep off the record. Bound to serve our masters, we toiled. My mother working in the house of our masters, myself, slaving away in the market and landing docks. I learnt later that these Liberty masters were of Outcast descent. I then knew why we were being treated as such. As of Corsair descent, many people believed me to be illiterate. Quite the opposite in fact thanks to my mother, who forced me to study and learn life. I adhered. I chose to stay silent, observing, absorbing our masters every move and action. Being “illiterate” was a blessing in disguise as they never saw me coming. I learned as much as I could to get back at life; Ship repairs, Trading knowledge, listening in on conversations, looking at portfolios, markets and stocks.

My mother’s death was the final nail in the coffin. Her death could have been avoided if our “masters” spent a bit of credits to help her fight the common cold. With nothing left to lose I vowed to get back. Get back at the Nomads and back at the Liberty mind control agenda as well as the tyranny that is the Outcasts. Having access to the docks as one of the apprentice mechanics, I was around a lot of ships. Big and small. Being 24 and headstrong with a cool and calculated logical mind also has its advantages. The night I snuck out noone knew. A small Starflier was to be refueled for the next morning. The pilot must have thought it could never happen to him. He died peacefully in his sleep as I slit his throat ear to ear in the cockpit of his own ship. Having one $10k Credit card in his pocket, I knew this was just the break I had been looking for. One quick refuel and one docking ring toll fee with registration for a new pilot brought me down to 5440 credits. I dubbed myself the call sign “Wip3out”. Wiping out my 3 enemies is my goal. The Nomads, Liberty and Outcasts. It was done. I was free. To get back at my number one enemy, the Nomads, which started it all, I knew what had to be done. I started looking… looking for my homeland, my people. The Corsairs.

Here I am. I am ready to be inducted into the ranks of my family, if you so wish. I will serve The Brotherhood with courage, honour and fierce loyalty.

>>End of File<<

>>Transnote from LSF<<
This message was sent from Liberty Space. Pilot is believed to be making headway to the Omicron Sectors. Persuit with caution.
>>End Transnote<<