{In order to show how much I've gone back and improved/changed, the first few episodes/chapters may have bold and non bold elements. Bold represents changed text.}
Bokep startled awake as the sound of automatic gunfire bracketed the interior concrete walls of the Hab-Plex. Violence and gunshots weren’t necessarily uncommon anymore; the already incompetent police had more or less given up on patrolling and enforcing laws inside the largest and more impoverished habs when they were built, but automatic fire was rare. Throwing some basic clothing on, he undid the makeshift lock on the front door of his family apartment and peeked his head out to try and see the source of the commotion. He had heard some yells when he was inside and still dressing, but a few semi-automatic rounds marked the swift end to them. Bokep wasn’t quite sure why he was trying to sneak a peak at what was going on. He reasoned -illogically or otherwise- that the risk of bodily hard was worth knowing if more danger was in his and his family’s immediate future or now.
Gazing down the two person wide corridor, a Euruskan infantryman duo kicked open a door. There was a loud bang as the pointman was almost flung into the opposite wall, collapsing to the floor. Bokep swore he could see the ribcage of the man poking through the large hole in his frontal armor as smoke and steam rose from the gaping home. What must have been the soldier’s battle buddy threw a grenade into the source of the initial fire and took cover. Bokep ducked back into his own apartment and heard a another bang a few seconds later. Peeking back out, Bokep saw the Euruskan hauling out an older man, maybe in his late fifties into the hallway before pushing the unconscious body onto the floor and executing him with his Kalashnikov. After witnessing the summary execution, Bokep quickly darted back inside his apartment to awake his still somehow sleeping mother and father.
“Mom, Dad? We have to go! Euruskan soldiers are here!”, He said, shaking them both awake.
Soldiers only came into the Hab-Blocks for two reasons: extermination, or conscription. Given what he had just seen, it was a fifty-fifty chance either direction. As Bokep swiftly threw on a jacket and tried to gather what limited food they had, his parents began to dress themselves as well. Opening the rusted slab of a door, Bokep looked down the hall just as another pair of soldiers exited one of the other apartments.
“Hey you! Put your fucking hands up and get out of the apartment Cyka!”, the pointman said, training his rifle on Bokep, its laser-sight squarely center mass.
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“Woah, woah, woah, okay.”, Bokep replied putting his hands up and walking into the narrow hallway, the smell of blood and gunpowder still strong from the previous exchange of fire. Given the fact he was still alive, Bokep concluded that this was in fact a conscription unit.
“Are you alone?”, the soldier barked, jutting his Klasnikov forward as a sort of hand gesture.
“I-n-no… I’m with my family, mother and father, neither military-aged.”, Bokep said, trying to prevent whatever other reasoning or mission the men were on from hurting his parents.
His parent tried to plead with the soldiers to not take him, but automatic weapons made resistance futile. Bokep was quickly hand-cuffed and taken outside the Hab-Plex to a waiting convoy of BTRs and Gaz Trucks. One of the soldiers walked up to what Bokep guessed was either a senior NCO, or an officer and had a limited verbal exchange before being pointed towards a BTR-50 towards the from of the convoy. Whatever was said was heavily garbled due to the helmets the men wore and in all likelihood was jointly caused by some sort of communications equipment as to maintain operational security in the field.
Looking around, Bokep saw others being taken too. He didn’t recognize hardly any of them. Maybe a face or two from passing, but no one in particular. He did see a rather scrawny-looking Euruskan drag the corpse of what Bokep believed to be the first pointman out of the Hab-Plex, leaving a thick streak of blood as he went.
As Bokep was taken from the gathering area and placed into a BTR, Bokep was met with what he characterized as a bunch of scared kids. some men, others women; about a fifty-fifty split. Most of them were his own age, likely early twenties at the oldest. The youngest he saw was maybe fifteen. There were two soldiers in the back with them. They appeared to be older, likely home-guard who either didn’t make the cut for frontline service, or were being rotated back for reinforcement… how lucky; now instead of killing Europans, they got to kill their own. It didn’t matter if they, or the enemy fired the bullet, conscription meant death. Even if you were told it was only for a tour or two, most rarely survived their first extended field operation, at least in the infantry.
Through the ear splitting silence, a join broke through, “Who knows, maybe we’ll be the lucky ones. I heard they’re raising new tank brigades, maybe they’ll make us tankers!” The voice belonged to a visibly horrified teenager who’s knee had been bouncing up and down since Bokep had first seen him. Several others including the soldiers shot the kid glances, some threatening, others just annoyed at his existence. Regardless, no one spoke for the rest of the ride.