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Post by Melissia on Aug 2, 2009 12:39:23 GMT -5
After a short while, a trio of commisssars came out, and began to gather everyone into three groups of twenty, each one assigned a commissar.
Each group was taken to a different location, and trained differently from the others-- but each had remarkably similar experiences.
"Listen up conscripts. You're being given the opportunity to repay the emperor for the trouble you've caused this blessed city of his. You will use this opportunity in exactly that matter-- and I will brutally punish anyone who doesn't. I have orders not to just shoot you, instead you will recieve lashes with the neural whips."
A look of dark amusement went on his face, as if he knew that he would be hearing the screams of someone being tortured by the whip sooner rather than later. "When you respond to me or anyone above you in rank-- which, here, is everyone-- you will begin and end every senteince with Sir. Sir, Yes Sir! Sir, No Sir! Sir, I would like to take a [bleep], sir!, and so on. Do I make myself clear? I DIDN'T HEAR YOU! Speak up when an officer talks to you! I want you to almost shout it out, 'Sir, Yes Sir!', so that I can hear each and every one of your groveling voices!"
"SIR YES SIR!" The woman still had her handcannon revolver holstered on her left side, as the PDFs didn't see fit to take it away-- she was cooperative and they had bigger fish to fry. Still, she wasn't nuts enough to shoot the commissar, as tempting as it was. There were witnesses present, and they'd trace the bullet back to her... best wait until she gets a lasgun and she can catch the commissar alone...
As for why she was thinking such heretical thoughts? Purely a survival instinct. Commissars did not have good reputations for keeping their subbordinates alive, after all!
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Aug 2, 2009 12:45:29 GMT -5
'Sir, understood, Sir." said Ackland. He knew how this game was played. Do what the big shouty person said, don't complain, don't argue, don't volunteer. Don't get noticed.
Ackland was in his new uniform, his Praetor ID tucked into his boot along with one of the three knives on his person. He was fairly confident that most of the people here wouldn't recognize him as one of the Riot troopers, unless, of course, they had seen him distract the Heavy Stubber nest after he had lost his helmet, but he was sure that that would only be two or three out of the mob, at best. Everyone else had run away, screaming, or had pressed their faces into the ground to try and avoid the fire.
Reds
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Post by The Refined Gentleman (M.I.A) on Aug 2, 2009 13:02:09 GMT -5
Vanash was a sight in his new uniform. The ragged khaki fatigues hung off his unusualy lean frame. He felt cumbersome in his flak jacket and he felt slightly overbalanced by his pack. Slung over his back was a newly stamped, light pattern lasgun with an intricate wooden stock. The sleek feel of the weapon pleased him.
He was also fortunate to still have his faithful companion Haragnai at his side, another occasion where saying the right thing could get you far, managing to pass it off as an antique from an auction. Still battle-worthy.
“Trooper Threepwood!!!” Bellowed the pudgy red faced commissar he found himself face to face with.
“Yes sir!” He replied.
It amused him just how much he towered over the political officer, and most other people in the group. Even the cowgirl he could see around 7 bodies down the line.
“Are you paying attention!!!”
“Yes sir!”
“There is no time for day dreaming in the guard trooper! Remember, you are expendable and if you should get in the way of proceedings I shall treat you so!!!”
“Am I the most unlikeable barstard ever to cross you?!”
“Yes sir!!!”A short chuckle was heard from the pudgy faced disciplinarian.
“I like you.”
Before Threepwood could react a fist connected sharply with his gut.
“But subordination is one thing I will not tolerate!”
Vanash lay on the ground a moment, coughing up blood and clenching his eyes.
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Aug 2, 2009 13:34:52 GMT -5
Ackland had been standing behind the kid, who's name unfortunately appeared to be "Threepwood", that the Commissar had just punched. Ackland tensed slightly, but managed not to react. As the Commissar continued down the line, Ackland quickly bent down and pulled the kid to his feet.
"Stand back in line, don't say a word, and don't talk back to the Commissars." he whispered in the kid's ear.
Reds
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Post by Kaikelx on Aug 2, 2009 13:38:11 GMT -5
Rosh had pulled his helmet down, so that his eyes were covered by the shadow made from the helmet. All he had to do was not excel, but not fail...
Look on the bright side, Rosh thought to himself, At least I get a nice laser gun at the end of this....
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Post by The Refined Gentleman (M.I.A) on Aug 2, 2009 16:08:32 GMT -5
Vanash looked back at the man. A praetor by his ID tag.
"I'll keep that in mind." He let out a small, subtle laugh. "Spent my whole life evading the arbites, get caught by the military. I always hoped I'd get by conscription, but people skills don't really help when you're out of it." Threepwood mouthed silently to the man.
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Aug 2, 2009 17:19:41 GMT -5
Ackland smiled to himself. "Well, those Arbis have their heads up their arses." he said, facing forward and not moving his mouth "If you're good at not getting noticed, now's the time to do it. Don't be the best when it comes to training, and don't be the worst. Be good enough, and don't attract any attention if you can help it. Either from officers or the enemy."
Reds
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Post by The Refined Gentleman (M.I.A) on Aug 2, 2009 17:29:28 GMT -5
"How do you think i get around?" He whispered with a cocksure smile, still eyeing the commissar as he marched away down the line. "I'm the best where i come from. I guess this is just a new challenge, like when the banks get new locks."
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Post by The Envoy (AWOL) on Aug 2, 2009 19:03:26 GMT -5
Branden could really do too much at the moment, his injuries were still played out on his face and bruises in the form of some nasty bruises.
"Yeah yeah sure sir," he muttered, half listening to the commissar.
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Post by Melissia on Aug 4, 2009 12:27:43 GMT -5
"Conscript Threepwood! Get your blessed helmet on right! Conscript Hawker! The next time I see you with untied boots, I will PERSONALLY deliver five lashes, ONTOP of normal punishment! Conscript Rosh, keep your chin up and look FORWARD! Conscript Knight, stand fully at attention, and next time I see you I want to see a regulation belt, not that redneck garbage! I can't believe you, Conscript Emunnyn, TUCK YOUR FRAKKING UNIFORM IN! Conscript Ackland, head STRAIGHT back to the armoury and put on your vambraces and greaves, or I will shoot your limbs off mySELF! Where is your Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer, Conscript Ramirez! SHOW IT TO ME! Good."
And on and on down the line he berated every single conscript, sending a few back to retrieve parts of their uniform they missed, and berating all the others for not putting them on regulation-style. Which was, apparently, an unachievable goal, in the eyes of this Commissar. when all was said and done, and everyone got back (and they were berated for that, too-- "you certainly took your frakking time!"), everyone was formed up into marching ranks, and sent outside to march for two hours non-stop...
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Aug 4, 2009 18:30:57 GMT -5
The vambraces and greaves shifted uncomfortably as Ackland marched. Ackland had never seen much point to the stupid things, as they had always limited his mobility in hand to hand combat, or so he felt. Still, this wasn't so hard. During Praetor training, he had routinely done two mile runs for mouthing off to the instructor, and he was used to pursuing fleeing perpetrators on foot for long distances. The armour was a bit heavier then he was used to, but he could handle what amounted to a little glorified walking with relative ease.
As he marched, he began to whisper the words to "Tonight's delight" under his breath. It was an old marching cadence the Praetors used that consisted of the rather exhausting list of sexual acts the hive's prostitutes offered to any interested party, their cost, and the alternate nicknames. When he first learned the cadence, he had no idea what any of them where. Now he was a slightly older, and much wiser man. And he knew the first seven verses by heart.
He also knew the cadence would probably be frowned upon by the Commissar, so he was careful to keep his voice hidden under the tramping of boots, and would stop completely if the Commissar drew too near.
Reds
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Post by Helmian (M.I.A) on Aug 4, 2009 19:05:41 GMT -5
''Sir!'' Qachechta started to tuck his uniform as he marched. He didn't like it one bit, but he did as he was told.
When the hell do i get a big gun? he wondered.
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Post by The Envoy (AWOL) on Aug 4, 2009 20:07:58 GMT -5
Branden marched along with the beat. Every step made his injuries throb, but that wasn't really going to matter to the Commissar now was it?
So, he pushed on, half smiling to himself at the song the trooper next to him was humming to himself, though he only caught snippets.
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Post by The Refined Gentleman (M.I.A) on Aug 7, 2009 7:20:12 GMT -5
As his feet grew ever sorer, his body being ebbed away by the numbing rhythm of the march of him and his new...aquaintences, Vanash began to eye anyone who passed through the marching grounds.
Even in the worse situations there was opportunity. In his experience, he knew that the right word, in the right place pitched at the right tone could buy you a bank, a fortress, hell! If he wanted he could buy the entire sector! He had learned that any mind can be won over with words. Thats how he did what he did. All he had to do was find the weakest links.
He took a small peak back at the group while the commissars and officers gazes were elsewhere and smirked.
Being the devious bastard he was, it could be anyone in this complex...
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Aug 7, 2009 18:38:46 GMT -5
The recruit next to Ackland stumbled, on the verge of collapse. Ackland put an arm around the man, pulling him up.
"Whoa there, you gotta pace yourself mac. Don't but so much effort into it, find a rhythm. Here, left, right, left, right, 1, 2, 3, 4, yeah, you got it now." As the Commissar passed by, Ackland pointedly ignored him, still helping the other recruit keep pace.
Reds
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Post by Kaikelx on Aug 8, 2009 20:48:35 GMT -5
Rosh kept up the march. It was tiring, but hey, it wasn't that bad when he thought about it.
Besides, the song the Arbite was singing was mildly entertaining, and catchy, causing Rosh to sing it to himself in his mind.
As the march went on though, Rosh started emulating the Arbite's march. He figured the more he marched like him, the less chance of him being noticed.
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Post by Helmian (M.I.A) on Aug 9, 2009 13:00:19 GMT -5
Marching ain't that bad. Qachechta thought. But it gets kinda boring after a while though.
''Hey commissar sir! When do we get there sir?''
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Post by The Refined Gentleman (M.I.A) on Aug 10, 2009 15:07:03 GMT -5
Vanash fought to keep his spine bolt straight. It was starting to hurt now, his body struggling to cope with the strain of staying in one position for such a time.
Then he heard the guy...uh...Qachechta, was that his name? Anyway, he heard him shout out to that bastard of a commie and anticipated the inevitable repreocusions...
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Aug 10, 2009 15:11:05 GMT -5
Ackland whispered in a low voice, so the recruits around him could hear "And that guy, boys and girls, just broke rule number one of training. Never do anything to make yourself stick out. He also broke rule number two, which is Don't Ask Questions. I can't imagine this ending well."
Reds
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Post by Kaikelx on Aug 10, 2009 17:49:13 GMT -5
Rosh couldn't believe his ears at what he just heard....
Aw sh*t......
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Post by Melissia on Aug 10, 2009 19:30:54 GMT -5
"Oh, and you think you're funny don't you? Well conscript, you don't "get there" until I SAY you've arrived. I'm marching your fat, lazy, civilian ASS around because I don't want you running out of breath before you reach the enemy lines when I order you to frakking charge!
Conscripts... HALT! Because this man here is so much more concerned with getting it over with as opposed to actually getting the excercize he needs, we are instead going to do something even MORE fun.
Drop on your bellies and give me fifty pushups. Anyone who fails to give the proper numbers gets corpse starch rations today. When you get done, if you haven't died from being so pathetic, you may march your fat arses around to the chow lines. And don't even THINK about starting to eat until the chaplain has finished midday prayers, which you will ALL participate in.
What the frak are you waiting for?!? DROP!" The commissar fired his bolt pistol into the air, drawing it with one fluent motion like a professional duellist.
And he was staying there, counting their pushups, and every single conscript felt as if his glaring, condescending eyes were on them, and them alone.
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Post by The Envoy (AWOL) on Aug 10, 2009 19:35:40 GMT -5
Branden did the push-ups naturally. His physique lended itself nicely to the exercise, and he normally did a large number of push-ups before beginning to work during the day.
His injuries stung still though, so he paced himself, but was still one of the first to finish. But he didn't stop, he did a few extra so as not to stick out.
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Post by RedsandRoyals on Aug 10, 2009 19:35:55 GMT -5
"See what I mean?" muttered Ackland.
Normally, 50 push ups would have been a breeze, but after the marching, Ackland was beginning to feel the strain. The only small comfort in the back of his head was that as annoying as this was for him, the moron who had asked the question was probably feeling a helluva lot worse.
Reds
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Post by Kaikelx on Aug 10, 2009 21:14:50 GMT -5
The push-ups weren't much of a problem. Well, they wouldn't be, if he hadn't been marching for the Emperor knows how long.
So with a grim look, he started his 50.
At least it wasn't 100.....
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Post by The Refined Gentleman (M.I.A) on Aug 12, 2009 1:37:32 GMT -5
Threepwood grunted again. He could run through 6 blocks of buildings non-stop, he could climb walls made of nothing but stone. But now he had to do bloody push ups!
He muttered under his breath "Damn you Qach!"
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