Already his sub-space Comm channels were lighting up, which was good. He'd posted the Manifesto in several key stations while he was in Empire. So far so good. He noticed the Alliance had been busy the day before, some good kills posted on the Lounge Killboard. It was time to get into something and make something happen.
An Alliance gang was already up and running, but it was a little light on Damage Dealers, so he decided to take out his Hurricane to start with. It'd been awhile since he'd flown the Minmatar contraption, and despite its obvious flaws, he loved the bucket of bolts. It was still early and the gang was starting out slow, but that would change as more and more pilots woke up and joined the party. He parked his Cane and waited. Mostly answering calls and dealing with potential recruits, Empire logistics and the other crap that needed dealt with. Slowly the gang grew as more and more ships joined up, it wouldn't be long before they'd be ready.
The gang was turning out nice and as Fleet Commander he started organizing things, asking people to re-ship if needed and setting up the bubbles. They managed to grab a few ships already and it was looking to be a good day, even this early. Sometimes you just get a sense for these things. He decided to re-ship into something a bit more fun and returned to station to change over to his Cynabal. He didn't fly it often for various reasons, but he loved the ship. Especially since the modifications he'd made to the interior, these faction beasts were notoriously sparse and basic inside. So he'd ripped out the cabins and completely re-made them to almost Amarrian standards of luxury. He smiled as he closed down the pod hatch, like it mattered inside your pod! His smile turned to a laugh, hell, you only live once.
This is when the shit hit the fan. Several larger fleets moved through the region and, as always, you had to stay on your toes to keep track. The Cynabal didn't last long, it wasn't destroyed, only replaced with the Sabre. The day was looking like a chase and catch day, and the Sabre was much more useful in those situations. It wasn't long before that theory was put to the test. Several smaller ships entered local and he warped the gang to their stations. With two Falcons and a nice assortment of other ships, they could take on just about anything. His Comm channel blinked and it was Angor asking if he could borrow his Sleipnir. The Alliance channel blinked and it was LJB asking him if he could please ask Angor not to yell at his pilots. Rixx laughed, only two days back in a Corp with Angor and already the pot was being stirred. He laughed so hard he started shooting the Gate by mistake.
Just then a Neutral jumped into local and Rixx jumped ahead into the next system. It was a Tengu and his bubble went up, he activated his microwarpdrive but held his foot down on the accelerator for now. The enemy Tengu popped up towards the edge of the bubble and cloaked up. Even before that though Rixx had started burning towards him, 15 kilometers isn't far and he kept his eyes on that spot in space were the Tengu had been. Sure enough, even as several fleet members started saying he got away, the Sabre de-cloaked the Tech Three cruiser and Rixx started up his scram, guns and everything else he had. Boom! Catching, de-cloaking and then killing an enemy Tengu is always just about the most fun you can have he thought. Even with Angor flying his Command Ship in fleet.
The rest of the day saw even more kills and very, very few losses. In fact, only one ship was lost. He felt bad about the Vagabond, but that was a close call engagement anyway and only one loss was a win. Now when he returned to station he could post his kills under a new board in the Lounge, a board with the Lucifer's Hammer crest on it. It was already starting to fill up. Nah, he didn't regret his decision a single iota.
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