07-23-2015, 07:07 PM
I had probably one of my best rounds in awhile.
I started as a Sec officer, and an admin had spawned a cockatiel named Deputy Feathers in the Security office. Feathers flapped about, picking things up and fiddling with them with their beak. I was delighted and bought them some fries to eat. Knowing a growing bird needed something more substantial, started taking Feathers to botany to get some fresh fruit for them. That's when tragedy struck, in the form of a tool box applied to poor Feathers' delicate frame.
Holding this toolbox was Frank Lester, whom I immediately introduced to my stun baton several dozen times. I took Frank to the brig where dirty scum belong, when the HoS comes along and frees them with a pat on the back, saying they hated Feathers. I immediately quit in disgust, turning in my equipment. I'd rather be a Staff Assistant than serve under a callous HoS like that.
The HoP E Mote took pity on my tale, and made me their personal assistant with higher access. It was a favor I could return several times when I saved them from disposals after the clown flushed them, and later reattached their leg from a pipe bomb explosion.
Despite me leaving the force, I kept to my sworn duty to protect the station, reporting an emagged locker, disarming a terrorist with my bare hands, trying to get said terrorist medical attention before they succumbed to the beating I gave them (I failed in this task unfortunately), and using the terrorists gun to free a journalist from being devoured by the blob.
There was never a dull moment, and thank everyone involved for the experience.
I started as a Sec officer, and an admin had spawned a cockatiel named Deputy Feathers in the Security office. Feathers flapped about, picking things up and fiddling with them with their beak. I was delighted and bought them some fries to eat. Knowing a growing bird needed something more substantial, started taking Feathers to botany to get some fresh fruit for them. That's when tragedy struck, in the form of a tool box applied to poor Feathers' delicate frame.
Holding this toolbox was Frank Lester, whom I immediately introduced to my stun baton several dozen times. I took Frank to the brig where dirty scum belong, when the HoS comes along and frees them with a pat on the back, saying they hated Feathers. I immediately quit in disgust, turning in my equipment. I'd rather be a Staff Assistant than serve under a callous HoS like that.
The HoP E Mote took pity on my tale, and made me their personal assistant with higher access. It was a favor I could return several times when I saved them from disposals after the clown flushed them, and later reattached their leg from a pipe bomb explosion.
Despite me leaving the force, I kept to my sworn duty to protect the station, reporting an emagged locker, disarming a terrorist with my bare hands, trying to get said terrorist medical attention before they succumbed to the beating I gave them (I failed in this task unfortunately), and using the terrorists gun to free a journalist from being devoured by the blob.
There was never a dull moment, and thank everyone involved for the experience.