March: Conrad F. Raege

Inquisitor,

Very fucking funny.

I ask for something easier so you make my next assignment 'ask a Commissar to get their kit off' Brilliant! Inspired! There is a special section of the warp for people like you!

But anyways, the difficulty was not as I expected. She seemed to understand the CONCEPT of a pin-up calender and how it was beneficial, but she did not seem to understand sexuality itself. Like, at all. She tried showing some leg or striking some poses but did it all with either an expression of clinical disinterest or a horrendous forced smile. Ten reels I took. All worthless.

With her permission I sat in on her usual exercise regimin, I tried taking snaps of her as she practiced pugilism, because the way she swung punches made her charlies bob real nice, but she looked really pissed in all of those, so again, they were unusuable.

Then, as she was towelling off I noticed something perculiar. I included a transcript of the conversation because I know you love to hear about yourself, good or bad.

Me: Just an observation. For a Commissar, there's barely a mark on you.

Her: Not allowed. The inquisitor makes sure I always get properly patched up and skingrafted after battle. He maintains me ceaselessly, same reason as he has me on juvenats, I suppose.

Me: Creepy. What are you some kind of doll to him?

Her: I prefer to think of it as being like a well maintained weapon, but yes, basically.

Me: So, why are you allowed to keep that one?

(she raises her vest at this point)

Her: Oh. I have this one because he gave it to me.

Me: Uuh..

Her: Not directly, I suppose. See, back on my home planet...have you heard of Kuluth?

Me: Enough to know I don't want to go there.

Her: Right, it's a war world. But I loved that about it. So when I got to be a Commissar attached to a regiment from my own planet, as almost never happens, I was actually pretty thrilled.

Me: Sure.

Her: We were the 113the Kuluthian infantry nicknamed "The Boomslangs" also known as "The Murdering Bastards", back home on Kuluth we defended the shit out of that planet. I was so proud, I even got their logo tattooed clear down my torso - big ol' snake in glowing blue!

Me: Excellent.

Her: But you know...there are these certain creatures that once you take them from their ideal conditions, they just can't survive, like they don't even know how to eat or whatever. I guess 'The Boomslangs' were just that. We did a tour of duty against the Orks on Krenshaw 7, and they just couldn't handle it. Whatever balls they had, they left back on Kuluth. I couldn't stand it. I tried to reinstill some of the whoop-ass they once had in them and when that didn't work I just resorted to being as scary as possibe, you know? Commissaring 101, but I had gone kind of spare at that point. I mean, I was sort of a different person then and...

Me: I ...ah..heard about what happened..more or less...

Her: Oh good....

Me:.....

Her: I still hate that part.

Me: They said you were technically in the clear.

Her: Totally was, but that's only any good in a world run by the sort of pongs and songs automatons that write the rules in the first place. The glorious mass that is humanity tends to view things a little differently.

Me: Right. So...

Her: Right! So, I'm cleared but I'm exiled for life. At this point I'm seeing my whole planet as a world of pussies, who don't deserve a commissar as awesome as me, and I'm actually saying this to the Inquisitor as he escorts me onto a shuttle. I'm asking him where he's going to station me next, hopefully a place with a but more mustard. Then he tells me.

Me: Hoo boy.

Her: For 40 years AT LEAST, I'm gonna be cooling my heels on Hetrodyne. Seeing no active combat and being sent the shitty students that the other scholas couldn't handle. No action. No Killing. No fire. I begged, as in properly BEGGED for an alternative, but he was adament. HOnestly I had never seen him so stern, so angry. I wouldn't have even thought it possible up to that point.

Me: Wow, me neither.

Her: And then the icing on the cake: he lead me through to this surgical wing, where they had one of those...you know lancing chairs? Like for removing a growth or an infection and he tells me I'm not allowed to represent the Boomslangs any more, then hands me his wallet and invites me to bite down on it, as he 'forgot' any anaesthetic.

Me: Holy Throne.

Her: Yeah. Hurt like nothing else in the galaxy. I can still feel it some nights cutting through my body like a millsaur. He insists I keep it so it reminds me to be a human being, not just a Commissar.

Me: Is it working?

Her: Well I'm sure as hell not a Commissar.

Me: Mm. It's a bit late to mention it, but I was actually talking about the scar on your face. How did you get that?

Her: That's an excellent question I have no idea.


You're a weird one, Sir.


*********

DAMNIT! Took me 6 tries to make this look not completely arse (still kinda) and its ANOTHER whimisical looking woman with peek-a-bangs. Samey! Next time: Both eyes! No whimsy!!

Raaargh!