Public Bounty Hunter Application Help Desk: Come One, Come All

[Mammut]

Mammut sat in an enormous chair behind a desk in a mostly empty warehouse. Syndicate enforcers stood around, generously sprinkled about the floor in case the visitors got any bright ideas.

The desk had a little sign on it that said “Hunter Application Help Desk.”

A pile of flimsiplast sheets filled a tray on the desk. Mammut was vigorously seizing them and wielding his gigantic rubber stamp like a hammer.

“Approved, approved, approved,” he muttered under his breath.

The next Hunter hopeful should arrive soon.

OOC: if you require a Black Sun sponsor to approve your bounty hunter license, please approach the Chevin.

 

[Diamond Dog]

Diamond Dog, dressed in a pressed white shirt, suit pants, and leather jacket, approached the desk holding a stack of flimsiplast forms. They had been filled out with pen. The handwriting was barely legible.

His facemask displayed a bright, yellow smiley face, matching the tie he wore. His previous handler had told him to be more "approachable". A quick holonet search had told him that smiling made you more approachable.

"Hello," the voice that played through the facemask's speakers didn't entirely match the Gank's getup. It was friendly, business-like. The voice of a salesman, and vaguely pre-recorded sounding.

"My name is Dog, Diamond," last name, then first. He'd been told that was the proper way.

"I'm currently exploring new opportunities as a fugitive recovery specialist. I have five plus years of experience in the field, as well as adjacent, related fields. I'm really interested in forcible personal transformation management and capture process optimization. I saw your job posting and would love to learn more about your work and any opportunities you may have available."

That was business, baby. He was doing it right.

"I also filled out the paperwork," he held the flimsiplast forms out for the Chevin to take. That face on his mask kept giving a professional, but enthusiastic smile.

Mammut

 

[Mammut]

“Hmm, HMMM,” mused the Chevin, flipping through the offered stack of flimsiplast.

“Oh yes. Oh my.” He snuffled.

“Impressive impressive, but perhaps room for improvement hmm?” A big eye regarded the Gank over the stack of paperwork.

“I have just the thing for you.” He opened a drawer and took out a different rubber stamp. He slammed it down on the Gank’s forms. “Provisional license - after completion of a professional training course. For safety purposes.” He smiled too broadly.

 

[Diamond Dog]

Great joy struck DD as the emotional regulators in his cranium dumped an appropriate dose of dopamine to boost his biochemistry. He nearly did a little excited wiggle. But that would have been unprofessional. Instead he held out his hand for a proper handshake.

"Thank you very much. I am excited about the opportunities created by your company and would like to accept this provisional license."

He picked up the now-stamped forms. Those would be going to the secretaries to be copied in triplicate--one for him, two for filing away in the archive and the supplementary archival archive, no doubt.

Ah! He'd read it was good to ask questions of your future employer. It showed interest and made you stand out from the other applicants.

"What do you see as the biggest challenges currently facing your company?"

Mammut