Oh my goodness! I’d forgotten, darlings! Well, not really. I just don’t like to toot my own horn. But if others toot my horn for me, who am I to argue? I wouldn’t have known where to look, myself.
Those were my Freedom Fighter days! Defending the Republic with Anya sweetie. Good times, darlings.
The exercise took my stratospheric standings with the Amarrian Empire from, well, stratospheric to merely good. Simultaneously, they raised my standings with the Republic from “we would shoot you on sight if not for your perfect Diplomatic skills” to also good. Same for the Federation (though the Federation wasn’t quite prepared to shoot me). In fact, as a result of those days, I am now on remarkably even good footing with everyone (and adored by my Sisterhood). What more can a constituent ask for in a President?
As Karmilla darling points out, this predated the Sedevacantist movement. Besides, we were all Blood Raiders then, and Blood Raiders kill one another as signs of the most sincere affection.
The Devil Mr. Caine was cross with me for joining with Anya sweetie and not the Angels. But Angels really need to be better shots than I am, darlings. They are sophisticated ne’er do wells. I didn’t want to embarrass Mr. Caine and James in their slick Guardian production, and I am fundamentally a miner who can barely hit a giant rock. The Sani are not concerned with embarrassment. All you need to be good at is bleeding.
Well, I’m still a little embarrassed to admit I forgot to overheat my pew pews. Anya sweetie would have survived if I poked the right buttons. The Devil Mr. Caine really was better off without me. The episode did get me an introduction to the androgyne Gabriel, however, and his Tetra Gamma Metatron Salon.
Speaking of Gabriel and his salon, my half-Brutor half-Thukker spy had been a receptionist there. Recently, I bought her a Svipul. I don’t know quite how to say this, but when a Svipul is in sniper mode…
It looks like a cuttlefish.