First Impressions...
Broke, starving, cold, and alone. Again.
<Shivering and shaking off the frost of the thin atmo of Rhylanor as he cycles into the downport dome and strips off his mask and goggles he looks around.>
Same old story only the grungy starport is different. Well, not really, they all look the same. Same bored SPA agents, same half asleep IMP squad, same old travellers with different faces.
<unclips the only possession besides his well worn clothes from the dog tag chain around his neck>
Heads I go to the GroPo bar, run up a tab till I'm drunk enough and filled up on snacks, then pick a fight to get tossed out before having to pay... Tails I...
<looks around the downport... >
...sign up with the Merc Outfit? Why not.
<flips the SEH casually into the air over his left shoulder and catches it behind his back>
Tails. Figures. It's never the easy way with you is it Charron?
<A brief happy smile crosses his face before it slides back to the pained cold expression he walked in wearing>
<He unclips one of the dog tags and clips the SEH back on the chain, drops it back inside his shirt, and wanders over to the recruiter who raises his head in interest>
The grizzled old desk sargent looked up from the papers on his desk. He scowled and ran his eyes up and down your poor pathetic form.
"So what's on your mind, maggot?"
<tosses down one of his Imperial Army tags on the desk>
"A shower, a uniform, a meal, in that order. Anything else is details."
Two local peace officers walk up to the recruiting table dragging an unconscious man between them. “Our friend here wants to sign up” says the taller of the two men. Then the barrel chested officer holds up the ‘recruit’ while the tall officer uses the man’s hand to sign an ‘x’ on the contract.
Grabbing the unconscious man by the hair and jerking back his head, the officer shouts into his face from inches away “DO NOT LET ME FIND YOU IN STARTOWN AGAIN!” The officers drop the man on the ground and walk away.
Rolling him over, to get a better look, he has been badly worked over, but he should live.
<barely acknowledging the interruption both men carry on>
After the Sgt has reviewed your resume, but before dismissing you, he turns and pulls an ACR from behind him. He tosses it to you.
"Ok, trooper, you know the drill. START!"
He clicks a crono that he has in his hand...
<Willek deftly snatches the rifle from mid air, with a brief surprised smile at the grace of the catch, and he proceeds to field strip the weapon with practiced ease and speed slapping the last parts down on the desk in about 20 seconds>
<both men grin, briefly, blink and you missed it>
Sarg looks down at the still unconscious "'cruit" lying on the ground where he was left and shakes his head slowly.
"Alright. Drag him to those barracks back there, and help yourself to chow. When he comes to, have Doc see to him. You can check in with me tomorrow."
<looks around, sees no one else>
"Sure Sarge."
<bends down and does a quick assessment muttering to himself...>
"Nothing broken, no hemorrhaging, no sign of concussion, he'll live to suffer through the physical."
<grabs the guy and lifts him up in a professional two shoulder carry and wanders off to the barracks>
"Come on buddy, chow's on. What's that?.. Not hungry... I can have your ration. That's decent of you, we're going to get along just great...
(and I may forget or rate bits not worthy of spoilers)
