[Back on the 20th, the Postman delivered to Balin his
AFS physical training uniform and some of his other Recruit gear, except for the sidearm and its holster. Which is just fine for Balin! He'd prefer the uniform over gimpy Fifties attire anyway.]
[ACTION - ALL RESIDENTIAL STREETS (Late Morning/Early Afternoon)]
[So, since Balin isn't on shift
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[And yes, there's a hint of bitterness there.]
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[That is more than what Balin could have hoped for! Yuri, you have just made Balin's day. Although, he doesn't look pleased to hear this. Nothing awesome about such a grotesque display of serial killing, after all.]
[Balin gives a nod.]
That's ahright. I'm definitely gonna go down'ere an' check it out. Hell, even if some of'a people in'at trophy room got permanently droned, still good to write their names down. Never know if they might come back anyway.
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Like I said, just remember they ain't all assholes. Hell, think I heard somethin' 'bout people who didn't even get their hands dirty -- like, at all. Not even havin' underlings or anything -- people like that making it onto the display.
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[He throws his hands in the air, agitated.] Remember when I said it was a mess? I forgot it was a goddamned mess instead of just a regular one.
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And it's not like I'ma go gunnin' down'a people on'a list. It's just good'a know who might lose their marbles easy, yanno? So in case they ever pull a knife, you'll be ready. Or whatever kinda powers an' weapons'ey got.
Oh, say ... [Balin has a sheepish, goofy grin now.] I don't think we traded names yet. [He holds out his hand for Yuri to shake.]
Sergeant First Class Balin Wilbur.
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Yuri. Yuri Hyuga. No rank or anythin'.
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Heh, not in'a military back home, I take it? Lesse, you said you're from 1914 ... did World War I start yet?
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World War 1? I guess so. Most of the continent was a mess... what, there was a second huge fight later on?
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An' then it's gonna be'a Cold War all'a way up to'a Nineties.
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