Goonhub
08-23-2017, 09:19 AM
Berrik! Fellow staff comrade! What have they done to you? Not important, since it'll be undone in three... two...
Superlagg says, "I got you."
I pour a snort of Happy Elf Cryoxystylane into Berrik's gaping maw; unable to refuse, stunned and abused, it goes down smooth, locking them in a block of healing ice. I duck behind that ice and use it for cover, hoping it'll last -- it's strange; it'll tank a nuclear blast just fine and survive even the most infernal hot loop flames, but shatter into nothing at the slightest battering.
Communism never works. ...communism never works? What is that asshat talking about? I think. Hm. I think about the situation in which we've found ourselves. Communism is supposed to keep us safe, yet here we are, comrades bleeding and frozen amidst a station being torn apart by cops and clowns--not that it was much better to begin with! Maybe...
...maybe communism...
...doesn't work.
Communism doesn't work. It never worked. It can't! Ever since I was a little Infralagg, I'd assisted. Where one could use another, I would risk and often give life, limb, and everything to be there to bear their burden; a model comrade, a person of the people -- a staff assistant. There's a joke about how we'd start every shift in the cloner and end it in the morgue. But it wasn't a joke. That's how you'd know you've done a good job.
And you'd better believe I always give 110%.
They always said that the life of an assistant would be as thankless as it would be expendable. They were right. Too right. Here I am with my fellow assistant, mid-peril while mine is very imminent. I was always taught that under communism, all troubles would be shared, that the plight of one was the plight of all, and that we'd get together to save our collective bacon.
So why are we so alone? Who is the comrade to back me up? Where is my assistant? Communism only works one way, I guess. And that's why it doesn't work.
But capitalism. Money, dollars, cents; they pay me peanuts and I can pay for nothing, I have little to my name and less in my pocket. Thank you, HoP. Capitalism, too, doesn't work.
But you know what does work? Me. I work. I've always worked. These -isms are pointless; empty promises of safety and prosperity delivered from up on high, out of my reach until they judge me worthy. Their laws are meaningless, the best it's done is to create the Syndicate; we wouldn't even be in this situation if nuking the station was legal!
I am poor under capitalism and nothing under communism, but underneath it all? I rule. We rule. You and me, Berrik; you, me, and every other assistant are the Gray Tide what keeps afloat, on the ocean of our own blood, this station and her crew.
I clutch my glass of projectile liquor, and as I throw it at the Nukeop, I proclaim to the crew the announcement of our new Way.
Superlagg [145.9] exclaims, "CAPITALISM AND COMMUNISM SUUUCK NERDS!! GRAY TIDE YEAH THROW DOWN 100%!"
Superlagg says, "I got you."
I pour a snort of Happy Elf Cryoxystylane into Berrik's gaping maw; unable to refuse, stunned and abused, it goes down smooth, locking them in a block of healing ice. I duck behind that ice and use it for cover, hoping it'll last -- it's strange; it'll tank a nuclear blast just fine and survive even the most infernal hot loop flames, but shatter into nothing at the slightest battering.
Communism never works. ...communism never works? What is that asshat talking about? I think. Hm. I think about the situation in which we've found ourselves. Communism is supposed to keep us safe, yet here we are, comrades bleeding and frozen amidst a station being torn apart by cops and clowns--not that it was much better to begin with! Maybe...
...maybe communism...
...doesn't work.
Communism doesn't work. It never worked. It can't! Ever since I was a little Infralagg, I'd assisted. Where one could use another, I would risk and often give life, limb, and everything to be there to bear their burden; a model comrade, a person of the people -- a staff assistant. There's a joke about how we'd start every shift in the cloner and end it in the morgue. But it wasn't a joke. That's how you'd know you've done a good job.
And you'd better believe I always give 110%.
They always said that the life of an assistant would be as thankless as it would be expendable. They were right. Too right. Here I am with my fellow assistant, mid-peril while mine is very imminent. I was always taught that under communism, all troubles would be shared, that the plight of one was the plight of all, and that we'd get together to save our collective bacon.
So why are we so alone? Who is the comrade to back me up? Where is my assistant? Communism only works one way, I guess. And that's why it doesn't work.
But capitalism. Money, dollars, cents; they pay me peanuts and I can pay for nothing, I have little to my name and less in my pocket. Thank you, HoP. Capitalism, too, doesn't work.
But you know what does work? Me. I work. I've always worked. These -isms are pointless; empty promises of safety and prosperity delivered from up on high, out of my reach until they judge me worthy. Their laws are meaningless, the best it's done is to create the Syndicate; we wouldn't even be in this situation if nuking the station was legal!
I am poor under capitalism and nothing under communism, but underneath it all? I rule. We rule. You and me, Berrik; you, me, and every other assistant are the Gray Tide what keeps afloat, on the ocean of our own blood, this station and her crew.
I clutch my glass of projectile liquor, and as I throw it at the Nukeop, I proclaim to the crew the announcement of our new Way.
Superlagg [145.9] exclaims, "CAPITALISM AND COMMUNISM SUUUCK NERDS!! GRAY TIDE YEAH THROW DOWN 100%!"