[b]Totalist Union. Sector 0021. System 092-B. Planet JHS-294
[/b]

[img]http://i.imgur.com/wGsLDYh.jpg[/img]

It was a day of celebration for the Totalist Army in JHS-294. The last pockets of Collective troops had been wiped out and preparations were already underway for the next phase of the campaign against the Collective. The one big push that would see the accursed robots wiped out from the Universe once and for all. Or so the propaganda boasted.

Dvarza's division, the 294th, had spent the last weeks in a rather comfortable situation. By the time the relief fleet arrived they had been reduced to less than a company's worth of troops, just one of the many units decimated in the last desperate Collectivist attack.  And so while the cleanup was carried out by fresher units, the 294th stayed in the rearguard for rest and refit. They even had received a few medals from the Generalissimo himself during the larger ceremonies earlier this week.

The only downside, in Dvarza's opinion, was the nature of the reinforcements they had received. As a rule, most of the original effective of the 294th was from the planet itself. But now it looked like the Directorate had decided to flood their division with a bunch of snotty arrogant kids fresh out of the academies of the Core. Even the new crop of privates walked around like they were worth anything. Tensions were already building up beneath the surface between the veterans and the newbies, but so far nothing substantial had happened. Thanks in no small part to Commissar's Nigri efforts to ensure the “smooth integration” of the new elements within the divisional structure. 

The Commissar in question had just entered the officer's mess hall, calling everyone's attention as he started going around the tables talking and chatting with the officers. Who by this point had spent the last couple of hours consuming the divisional stocks of Victory Gin.

Lieutenant Dvarza watched the Commissar with hungry eyes. Or more specifically, the bowl he was carrying, almost overfilling with the familiar black and red wrapping of the chocolate bars. The Lieutenant could feel her mouth watering already. When Commissar Nigri finally reached her table, the Lieutenant felt her body tense in anticipation. Chocolate rations had almost completely ran out during the two years of battle against the Collective, with little priority put into producing more. Dvarza could actually count the number of times she had eaten chocolate in one hand. And that was because as an officer she had access to vastly more resources and privileges than a mere conscript.  

Now, now she was looking at more chocolate than she had seen in the last two years combined. Someone more philosophically inclined could make some statement about how this represented the change of fortunes and the inevitable triumph of the State. But the Lieutenant herself was too busy keeping a respectable behavior. It would do no good to jump at the Commissar, chocolates or not, Dvarza hadn't gotten this far just to get executed for that.

“...And here's yours.” Commissar Nigri smiled as he handed the Lieutenant a chocolate bar. “Might want to wipe your chin though.” He quipped before moving on to the next table filled with equally eager officers.

Dvarza paid him no heed, hurriedly tearing through the wrapping. She stopped to appreciate the moment, the scent of the chocolate, the delicious looking texture. She was going to make this one last. When the Lieutenant finally gave the first bite she couldn't contain herself. So sweet, and it melted in her mouth too. By the Supreme Director, if only she could have more chocolate she would gladly charge an entire platoon of heavy walkers.

“Do you want a room, Lieutenant?” One of the new Captains asked, a big nosed young man, Dvarza hadn't bothered learning his name yet, there were simply too many newbies to keep track of. He had already finished his chocolate and was filling a glass with Victory Gin. 

“I like chocolate, nothing wrong with that.” Dvarza replied, staring at the Captain. “Trust me, Captain. Had you fought the last two years in my shoes, you would be doing the same.”

“I was never that fond of chocolate, to be honest.” The Captain replied with a dismissive wave. “Give me gin any day of the week over that.” He emptied his glass, wincing slightly he continued. “But to each his own.”

Dvarza shrugged and returned to her chocolate. Victory Gin was good, but it could never beat a bar of quality Victory Chocolate.

“Celebration may be good and all.” Another of the new officers spoke up, or rather slurred, the newbie had more than her fair share of gin by this point. Dvarza also hadn't learned her name too. “But I don't see why we have to waste so much time.”

“You do realize the Commissar can't hear you from here, right?” Lieutenant Pozharsky teased, this one was probably the oldest living member of the division

“It may be surprising to the likes of you.” The young Lieutenant replied, glaring at Pozharsky. “But not everyone has to put up a front for the Commissars.” She took a sip of gin. “Though I'm sure you've mastered it after two years hiding in the trenches like vermin.” 

Dvarza tensed in her seat and Pozharsky went red with rage. Big Nose cringed and looked at the veterans apologetically while the two other men on the table were looking way too eager to see how this was going to end.

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you.” Pozharky gritted his teeth before taking another shot of gin. 

“Please! We are doing your lot a favor.” The Lieutenant snapped back. “Your little band of provincials is now finally able to see real soldiers in action.” Lieutenant Bitchface, as Dvarza had decided to call her from now on, grinned at Pozharsky, an arrogant and obnoxious thing that made Dvarza's blood boil. “You might even learn a thing or two. We all know that you need it.”

That was enough to make Pozharsky jump on the table to strangle Bitchface, followed by Dvarza herself, who had broken a bottle on the head of another officer who tried to intervene. Soon the whole officer's mess had descended into chaos as dozens of drunken men and women got into the fight, most without even bothering with the reason. 

Dvarza dodged a punch thrown by Big Nose and kicked him in the gut, sending the Captain straight into the ground. She turned to look for Pozharsky only to see him pinning Bitchface on the ground with his large hands wrapped around her throat, cursing and spitting wildly at her.

With that taken care of Dvarza rushed to help another veteran officer, Major Orestes, against a trio of assailants. Two Captains and a Lieutenant by their uniforms. Capitalizing on the surprise element, Dvarza jumped in from behind, knocking out the Lieutenant with a chair to the head before throwing it against one of the Captains, who got hit in the back. The last foe remaining realized her predicament and started backing away, but neither Dvarza nor Orestes were willing to let her get away so easily. 

Unfortunately for everyone that was the time the Commissar chose to appear. Storming into the room in full body armor, gas mask and followed by three squads of infantry. That sight was enough to make Dvarza's drunken brain realize the sheer scale of the shit she had gotten into. 

She had crapped her pants even before the paralyzing gas started flooding the hall.

“I can't even go to the bathroom without returning to a warzone.” Commissar Nigri's voice was distorted by the gas mask's speakers as he walked around the fallen officers. Or so Dvarza assumed, her head was stuck looking towards the roof.

“This kind of behavior is unbecoming of officers of the Totalist Army. You shame your uniform, the Party and the Supreme Director.” Nigri continued, now directly above Dvarza, and if not for the gas she would probably be shaking in fear. She was going to die, executed like some sort of coward traitor after surviving two years in the meat grinder. All because some bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut.

“But I am a merciful man, and I believe that we can still overcome our differences, for the good of the war effort. So, I will not have you killed for this shameful display.” He turned his head down to look directly at the paralyzed Lieutenant. “Grab and lock them up boys! A night stewing in their own shit and 15 lashes ought to make our good officers reflect on their mistakes.  And then we all will have a long talk.”

Dvarza felt two pair of arms lifting her up, though all she saw was the ground as her head swayed listlessly as they carried her away. But not even the paralysis nor the liquid waste running down her legs could damper her overwhelming relief. Just 15 lashes and a night locked up? That was as good as it got.

[b]Totalist Union. Sector 0021. System 092-B. Aboard Floating Fortress AA-#04. In orbit of Planet JHS-294
[/b]

[img]http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/killzone/images/e/e6/Admiral_Orlok.jpg.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20110214160826[/img]

Director Dollabella-Rybalsky kissed his silver baton and took a deep breath before striding confidently into the balcony. Dressed into the finery worth of his office, the black uniform of the Generalissimo of the Totalist State. As he stepped closer to the pulpit, the hundreds of men and women gathered in the speech hall of the AA-#04 cheered wildly, chanting his name and saluting repeatedly. The Generalissimo allowed himself to bask in the feeling of well earned adoration. The Armed Forces loved their leader almost as much as they loved the Supreme Director. As it should be.

“My brothers and sisters!” He started, adopting his well practiced speech voice, letting the microphones carry his words to the crowd. “Two years ago our glorious State was violated by the mechanic plague of Agonis! Now, I can finally say that our worlds are safe once again!”

The Generalissimo paused, letting the crowd cheer for some moments.

“But our struggle is not yet over!” He shouted into the microphone, raising his fist. “We have won the battle but the war rages on. Some within our government have suggested that we make peace with the Collective.” He sneered, internally reveling as he saw similar reactions from the crowd. “They say we have done enough. That we should conserve our strength and negotiate from a position of force, just as we did so many times with the hated Oligarchs of Albion and the Premier of Cymele.” He shook his head theatrically. “They do not understand that this enemy is unlike any other we have faced before. These are not the Red Guard of the People or the Federal Marines. The Collective is not a nation of men and xeno. It's not a state defending a misguided ideology. The Collective is a single being with many bodies. A plague with a trillion swords! A hungry monster that seeks to rape and burn our lands! Peace with the Collective will only come when we have torn down their hateful Queen piece by piece!” 

Dollabella-Rybalsky paused to catch his breath for a moment as the crowd continued cheering. 

“Make no mistake, brothers and sisters, the path ahead is not easy. Our enemy, though wounded is still a formidable foe. But that means nothing in the end! Let the trillions dead be from Agonis, let their lands be burned, raped and reduced to ash. Let their twisted Queen despair and cry as she sees her domain crumple around her! THE PARTY WAS, THE PARTY IS AND THE PARTY WILL ALWAYS BE TRIUMPHANT!

The Director waited until the cheering died down before continuing:

“We must push forward, on every world, on every moon, on EVERY INCH OF GROUND WE MUST FIGHT AND KILL THEM! ON EVERY WORLD WE MUST TOPPLE THEIR HOLD! ON EVERY BATTLEFRONT WE MUST ANNIHILATE THEIR TWISTED MONSTROSITIES! ON EVERY CONTINENT THEIR CITIES WILL BE REDUCED TO RADIOACTIVE ASH BENEATH THE GUNS OF OUR ARMIES! NO STOPPING! NO STEPPING BACK! WE GO ONLY FORWARD UNTIL THE VERY LAST ROBOT AND ABOMINATION IS REDUCED TO SCRAP METAL! THE SUPREME DIRECTOR IS WATCHING! DO NOT LET HIM DOWN!”


Summary:

-Shameless padding. Nothing of worth added to the big picture