*Visits the Passenger seats* HEY there's a female Minmatar fight club brewing in the cargo hold, who wants to to come and see?

*Visits the Passenger seats* HEY there's a female Minmatar fight club brewing in the cargo hold, who wants to to come and see?

*leaves the popcorn and beer with truth*

I was there five seconds ago

He climaxed in the lavatory.

Now that those two are dealt with, back to doing my job!

To all passengers: the two idiots by the name of Varmaak are now the next weapons/contestants in the Minmatar fight club that is taking place in the cargo hold. Place your bets now!

I'm the pilot! Any o you who've enjoyed my dropship flights know that only God can save you now!

i welded the cockpit shut.

"Passengers, this is your captain speaking, it is a balmy eighty-seven degrees at our destination site where you will be offloaded for contract assignment and offloading to your new homes in New Eden. Pursuant to the change in captaincy i have changed the registry on the ship to Breakin Wind 514, and have altered our flight plan. We are several hours yet to our destination but I have opted to misappropriate company funds to acquire yet more hookers and beer for the lot of you.

Don't get too attached. Once we arrive i intend to crash the ship into District 12 of the planet. those of you who survive will need to make the long death march to District 1 or commit suicide. This is commonly referred to as the New Eden Express Bus.

Further pursuant to the seeking of my own amusement i have set the locks on the weapons lockers in the minmatar section to malfunction at random. In order to acquire a weapon you will need to tear out the neocom of the nearest fatty and use it to hack the malfunctioning locks. Section 7, 8 and 9 are the designated conflict areas, this debacle is being televised on Pay Per View in Hisec. Put on a good show, kiddies.

Clone Reactivation Units have been activated. Now hang on while I fly this thing through Pureblind and Stain before setting course for Jita.

*hears a loud THUD! and wakes up with a jump*

-I fight back the feeling of panic as I realize my whole field of vision is a wash of pure white. -Remembering my choice to take a window seat for the scenery on such a long trip, I start second guessing that impulse as the sounds of utter chaos drown out the momentary lack of vision.
Something flickers in my field of view- a hole in the white, then another. It's ice. On the window. I must have fell asleep- or passed out? The sound starts fading away as I start to make out whats on our starboard side..... Something is catching the starlight- I see white dots gracefully arcing towards us from the source..... I'm making out the familiar silhouette of a minmatar destroyer...... THUNK THUNK THUNK!!!
F***ING SNOWBALLS! I exclaim as I jump back from the window one last time.
I don't move very far- the heavy next to me has decided to use my Logi suit as a pillow- and despite our superior cloning technology, there apparently hasn't been a cure for sleep apnea

.....then the scene around me unfolds......

At least half of the mercs have their helmets off, some of them are melee'ing each other with them, the remaining ones are puking into them. Someone in row D is unloading into all of row C with a scrambler pistol..... "I thought those were supposed to be stowed" I think to myself.
A glance back out the window shows the Talwar along with the nebula behind him rotating out of view- apparently we're barrel rolling for no good reas--------*intercom breaks in* ATTTENSHUN MAGGOTS! (the wall of shouting and ?moaning? momentarily dissipates)
-silence-
*hic* we.... we need uh........ damnit, what- oh TH CAPTAIN REQUESSTZ MORE WHIZZZKEY! " Allllllllllllll my Exes........ live in Texassssss...." *another voice breaks in*- the copilot I presume.

Being used to corp comms planetside, I'm actually heartened that everything seems to be going along just fine. -However, just as I am turning my attention back towards Mr. Militia Heavy, pinning me in my seat, something catches my eye that freezes me dead in my Gallente tracks:
Article IV Section C: Blatant mis-use of a REP Tool.
The entire rear quadrant of my section is slumped lifelessly askew in their seats, as someone with feathers attached to his merc helmet is moving from row to row. Flux repair tool in hand, obviously modded and glowing green, he places the buisiness end directly onto the forehead of someone in a scout suit. zzzrrRRPPT!!! Pow!
Disgusted, I look away, clearly remembering my drill sergeant back on Gallente Prime.... "YOU EVER MISUSE THESE TOOLS GIVEN TO YOU BY YOUR GODLESS, DECADENT COUNTRY, YOU BETTER BE PREPARED TO DO A WEEKEND OF COMMUNITY SERVICE! (I pause to remember these last memories I had before my neural implants....) "YOU DAMN KIDS THESE DAYS- NOTHIN BUT TEST BONGS AND HOLO'REELS ROTTIN' YER BRAINS!!" ("Just like my grandpa" I shake my head and chuckle)

-vvvvrrrp- I nervously glance around as my neocom blinks- -Ha, no one actually turns these things off I say to myself as I notice a new message.

Sender: CK Tergerson

"Becc. Shouldn't have told me your seat number. Hope you liked the snowballs =)"

(another buzz and a new flash)

"Don't wait up for me, I'm not cut out for the merc life, those f*ckers are crazy. Comm me when you need an orbital (=)*"


I laugh to myself a little bit, knowing full well he'll owe me 50m isk sometime in the future for losing that bet....
I'm still laughing as I notice a guy in a proto suit and a guy in a skinweave suit LARPing with each other with foam scrambler pistols. I wonder to myself if someone is trolling them or if they're just gakked out on millions of tiny robots from Hawk dude....
I feel a *crunch* underneath my modestly lifted heels as I stretch a little bit, scanning around the rest of my surroundings- looking back down momentarily, I see peanut shells. Looking back across the isles, I see peanut shells everywhere, being thrown to and fro. My eyes rest on a single merc, struggling with an unopened bag. From the row in front of him, someone in a scout suit momentarily puts down the apple he was eating, and turns to offer assistance. In a state of utter confusion, I watch a sort of 'reverse sword swallowing scene' -where the beginning and end of the act are all mixed up---
To my horror, the Nova Knive in question is offered up toward the bag of edibles- Stifling the vomit reflex, I turn my head only to be confronted by what seems to be a dog-pile of 6 or 7 mercs, in some kind of homoerotic clone-fest---- Someone is yelling "IT'S NOT GAY WE'RE CLONES" and there seems to be a flowing river of liquid from the lavatory---------

Burrowing back down into my seat, I frantically dig into my utility pocket and grab my nanite injector. Eyeing the heavy next to me, I notice his tray-table down, with an unopened travel-sized bottle of Quafe Zero on top of it.
Wasting no time, I pop the tops of both the Quafe and Nanite Injector, emptying the contents into the syringe, and administering it directly to my neck...........

.............Feeling vibrations from beneath my feet, I hear what seems to be some kind of tribal chanting...... but as I slowly start nodding my head to the rhythm, and looking back out at the last few snowflakes peeling off my window, It all fades into the jingle bell sound of *ching ching ching ching ching ching..............................*

=)

See you on the other side- Beccs.

"Passengers, this is your captain speaking, it is a balmy eighty-seven degrees at our destination site where you will be offloaded for contract assignment and offloading to your new homes in New Eden. Pursuant to the change in captaincy i have changed the registry on the ship to Breakin Wind 514, and have altered our flight plan. We are several hours yet to our destination but I have opted to misappropriate company funds to acquire yet more hookers and beer for the lot of you.

Don't get too attached. Once we arrive i intend to crash the ship into District 12 of the planet. those of you who survive will need to make the long death march to District 1 or commit suicide. This is commonly referred to as the New Eden Express Bus.

Further pursuant to the seeking of my own amusement i have set the locks on the weapons lockers in the minmatar section to malfunction at random. In order to acquire a weapon you will need to tear out the neocom of the nearest fatty and use it to hack the malfunctioning locks. Section 7, 8 and 9 are the designated conflict areas, this debacle is being televised on Pay Per View in Hisec. Put on a good show, kiddies.

Clone Reactivation Units have been activated. Now hang on while I fly this thing through Pureblind and Stain before setting course for Jita.

The Minimatar Party is still going strong in the cargo hold.

Wait till the Gallente show up, we be the masters of partying!

Minmatar Feasts vs Gallente Parties, or combine the two!!

The Party of Free Peoples! Boo yeah!

Nah nah nah man caldari girls all the way...sure they make you pay more for the goods but man do you get your money's worth

*Pulls out knife and holds it to a passengers neck*

"I'm taking this ******* plane, we're gonna make a new stop in the COD servers. Get ready for ******* rubber-banding and lag switching"

This is like a whole new trip... hifive!

*runs over gives the most epic high five that a soinicboom happens and pushs everyone to the wall as the ship sudeenly drops from the epicness but quickly regains it self*

Ok guys let's stop messing around and head to the cockpit for the dubstep mosh pit!....first come first gets punched in the face

Party is in the hold brother. And we have good music down here