Location: New York City
Date: August 19th, 2366

"If this meeting is so urgent, Why did the Chancellor invite us to New York City? Why Strattix Tower?"

"Maybe he thought Virginia was too dangerous. Remember what happened in Washington DC? All of the world's leaders incinerated in the blink of an eye. I imagine the Chancellor would want to keep us far away from the former capital"

"Wait, I think he's coming"

The windows of the room, which offered a panoramic view of New York City, dimmed until they were completely black. The lights even dimmed, making the conference room dark. About nine representatives took their seats at the round table and prepared for the Chancellor's emergency meeting. When the doors finally opened, however, the Chancellor was nowhere to be seen; Executor Lara walked in and closed the doors behind her. She took a seat in the only empty chair in the room, sitting a small briefcase on the table.

The fair-skinned woman, with her perfectly-cut, shoulder-length brown hair smirked at the committee. "Shall we begin ladies and gentlemen?"

"Perhaps we should wait for the Chancellor, Executor Lara."

Smirking again, Lara shook her head as she pulled a file folder from the briefcase. "The Chancellor won't be coming. This is classified. Off the books. Project: Revenant. It's risky, but after the Incident, it's the best choice we have right now" When Lara mentioned the Incident, a wave of guilt passed through the room, but Lara was unmoved by the thought. "For those few unfamiliar: imagine a task force composed of the galaxy's most dangerous criminals: assassins, mercenaries, pirates, and so many more. Now imagine they worked for the Alliance. We could send them anywhere, to do anything. It doesn't matter if they get caught. They're bad guys. The Federation - the Republic - they'll never suspect a thing. To them, it'll just look like a bunch of thugs doing what thugs do. My contacts have already pushed the order through and we've been gathering and prepping a first wave of assets"

"And where are they now, Executor?"

Lara smiled. "Chronos Station"

---

Sector 7
Chicago, IL
August 16th, 2366

"Encryption Complete. CommsNet link established"
"SAL? Maverick. I'm in position, setting up now. Status report"
"Transport acquired. Tailing target at suggested distance of 357 meters. Tracking. Target is following route 4A. ETA 4 minutes"
"Grand. Now shut up. You better catch me when I drop"

Grayson muted his comms and turned his attention to his armor's wrist CPU. There was a satellite antenna on his left with a rather thick base, an excellent anchor point. With a quick jab to the hologram on his arm, a grapple cable shot out from his belt, and jabbed into the antenna base. After tugging at the line to ensure it was solid, he scanned the nearby architecture and found an excellent space to send the other line. With another tap on the CPU, a second cable shot out from the Spider's Web and embedded itself in the structure on the opposite building. He did a security check, then engaged the reels, lengthening the left cable and shortening the right, until he was suspended between the two buildings, nearly 50 stories up.

"Time to go invisible" He muttered to himself as he engaged his suit's Active Camo mod. The final step of preparation was pulling out the compacted rectangle from his MagSling. At his touch, the rifle unfolded into its sniper configuration, he loaded a magazine of Heavy Piercing 7.62 rounds, and sighted up, carefully watching for the convoy to round the corner.

Meanwhile, on the ground, SAL was following their target closely, minding the distance meters on his HUD as they ticked closer to 0. He engaged a subnet access to log in to their ship's CPU and initiate pre-travel procedures, knowing they would need to get off-world quickly after assassinating such a high-ranking member of Earth's government. Aware that his appalling partner in crime likely had muted or even cut off their comm link, he hailed him over a newly encrypted frequency.
"SAL to Maverick. 600 meters to kill zone"
With no response, SAL had to assume Grayson had heard him, and carried on.
For this outing, SAL had selected a newer model of hovercar, cleared for in-city travel of up to 35 stories, and also miraculously easy to hack, he would likely have to push the upper-thrusters to their limits to successfully overtake the convoy and catch Grayson when he dropped from the Spider's Web, but he knew the raw speed of it would be more than enough for them to clear any pursuing vehicles and get back to the Vulture, hopefully before any authorities could lock down the docks.

The timer hit 0 and SAL put the pedals to the floor.

Up above, Grayson engaged his cybernetic implant and locked on to the target.
"Hello there, Executor Lara, I'd like you to meet a little friend of mine" He sneered as his finger tightened around the trigger.

Alliance Blacksite
Location Unknown
August 18th, 2366

Grayson sat chained to the interrogation room table, he'd spent most of the past 48 hours in a dark hole. Ever since the Alliance surrounded them as they made their escape. The target was eliminated and the payment received, but everything was gone now. All their assets had been seized when they were tossed in here. At least they'd kept them separate so Daniel didn't have to listen to SAL prattle on about how they could have better handled the situation, and the improbability of their capture. The door shooting open cut off his train of thought.

"Daniel Grayson. We meet at last. I'm Christen Fareed, executive assistant to Executor Lara" He was a pompous-looking prick was Daniel's first impression.
"So I kill your boss and you toss me in here. Cute, but dead is dead, and I have rights, so I want my ship, my guns, my credits, and I suppose I want the rustbucket back too, won't get far without him"
"Actually, you killed a decoy... Executor Lara is alive and well. You've been had my friend. This whole thing has been a test of sorts. The Alliance hired you with a contract on her, or rather, a cleverly disguised double, to ensure you're everything they say you are. You see, we're putting a team together, you can take your time and read the basics here" He produced a mini datapad and laid it in front of Grayson.
Grayson sneered at the device "No thanks, I don't play well with others"
"Curious then, that you've spent the past 4 years working with the robot" Fareed replied.
"Yeah, it's a long story"
"Well at any rate, you have a day to decide. The terms are as follows: If you refuse, any sentence imposed on you in a court of law will be tripled, you'll spend the rest of your life in a place far worse than this. If you agree however, time will be reduced from your sentence for every mission you complete as a member of Project: Revenant, once we feel you've done enough to service civilization, your ship and assets will be returned to you, as well as quite a large sum of credits"
Grayson considered for a moment "I want half up front and my equipment returned, otherwise you can just shoot me now"
"You'll get 33% up front, more than enough to cover operation costs. You ship out to Chronos Station in the morning"

---

Location: Chronos Station
Located on the fringes of Alliance territory, Chronos Station serves as a military checkpoint for Alliance vessels patrolling the Expanse, and a rest stop for traders. The Expanse is a vast region of space, mostly unexplored, not fully colonized, and inhabited by alien races not belonging to the larger galactic community. On the other side of the Expanse is Deadzone, a lawless region of the galaxy.

Stryker looked out of the observation window of his shuttle to see he was entering one of the landing bays on Chronos Station. Only a few other shuttles were located inside, as opposed of the other bays which were actually quite busy. The shuttles brought in each 'asset' of Project: Revenant. They were either locked up in some cell somewhere and promised freedom, or hired... or forced by the Alliance to be a part of this operation.

Captain Dawson walked up behind Stryker. "Alright, bounty hunter, time to get out"

"Yep," Stryker replied, picking up his bag of equipment.

"Don't sound so glum, Stryker. You might actually make a few friends"

"Shut up Dawson. The only reason I'm here is to settle the debt between us. As soon as that's over, I'm out of here"

"Don't forget mate, I've got your dirty little secrets all locked up, so play nice"

The Captain led the bounty hunter over to where the other assets were being gathered. Stryker sized up a few, and felt uneasy at the sight of them. Some of these guys were pretty bad. "Damn Dawson, where'd you find these guys?"

"I didn't. Lara did". Dawson found himself in the middle of the crew members, holding his hands in an attempt to keep any insults at bay. Nearly twenty armed guards stood sentry in the docking bay. Outside, through the force field, one could see into the vast expanse of space, as well as the ships flying in and out of the space station.

"Alright everybody, listen up" Dawson began. "I'm Captain Dawson. Last year my boss compiled a list of the worst sons-a-bitches in the galaxy. That happens to be you. Then she went about recruiting them. Those of you standing here are the ones who accepted the invitation. I don't know if she promised you credits, or freed you from prison, or offered you information... whatever, I don't want to know why you agreed to do this job. There's no turning back, the moment you stepped on this station you are officially under Alliance command. You will cooperate, or you will be punished"

Dawson motioned a hand signal to one of the guards, who left the area through an automatic door. The Captain started talking again. "The Alliance is handing over one of their former frigates, which we're dubbing the Revenant. Orders for your first assignment are coming in shortly. I'm going to get them, brief you all, then hand you off to my boy Stryker here and enjoy my vacation. He'll be day-to-day command on this, like it or not, I don't care. Alliance wanted me on board, but I couldn't be bothered with the detail. Now, I'll see you in a few minutes. Don't kill each other while I'm gone"

The Captain and the armed guards left the docking bay, so only the crew of the Revenant was inside - along with the shuttles they each flew in on.

Stryker gripped one of his pistols and said "I don't have anything to say to you scumbags. Just stay out of my way and let me do my job"

kabul, Afghanistan
1:30 AM, August 14th, 2166

The safe house was very cramped as far as sleeping space went. The couch and bed had been claimed quickly, and everyone else just found a place on the floor. It was a quaint little piece of shit that sat square in the middle of the ghettos, something that no one would bat an eye at. "Safe" was a relative term in this city.

The man who chose the short straw took the first watch. He sat by the window, looking out into the night as shifty figures walked down the street. Being here made him nervous; perhaps because he knew first hand just how dangerous this city could be. The slightest bump made him jump and whip around, his gun ready in his hands.

His eyes scanned the dark room, over the sleeping forms of him comrades. Maybe it was just another crackhead trying to break in. He stood and slowly slunk towards the source of the sound. As his feet creaked on the old wood floor on his journey towards the back door, the sound of shattering glass caused him to startle. The man whipped around to see a brick land on the floor just behind him. It was followed by a well aimed gas canister.

In the split second that it took for the canister to hiss and release it's fumes, the occupants of the house were already awake and grabbing their weapons and masks. The relatively quiet scene exploded into gun fire and shouting. The men were up and barreling out of the house, guns blazing. They were surrounded, but their demolitions expert quickly blew a hole in their attackers' circle to make way for their escape vehicle.

"Get in the van!" A deep, Russian accented voice shouted over the chaos. The unit piled out of the house and into the old, beat up looking van parked outside. Someone jumped behind the wheel and put the pedal to floor. The surprisingly sturdy old Ford plowed through anyone who tried to get in their way. There was a flurry of arms and legs as the men quickly assembled their armor onto their bodies, most it second hand. This clearly wasn't the most glamorous operation.

The van tore down the streets, followed closely by a hovercraft. It was clear who had the upper hand here. The back doors of the van flew open, and a very large figure leaned out to unleash a hail of bullets onto the driver of the craft. As it fell back, another took it's place. The large man cursed and reloaded his weapon to shoot it down as well.

As he took aim, a gunman leaned out of the front passenger window and opened fire. The large, Russian man expected his armor to deflect the rounds, but they instead clenched onto the front of his chest plate. He paused to look down at them before it registered what they were, a second too late. The three devices clinging to him beeped loudly, then let out a strong, electromagnetic pulse. The man felt his legs give out, his feet going numb. He dropped from the back of the van like a sack of potatoes, crumpling onto the street.

The van screeched to a halt, and one of the side door flew open. "No! Keep going you idiots!" The Russian man shouted, "Go! Drive!"

The van hesitated before the tires screeched again as it tore off down the road. The hovercraft landed on the street, dispersing a crowd of bystanders who thought it would a good idea to rubberneck. The man could feel the nerves in his legs coming back to life, and stood to his feet, just a little shaky. He raised his gun and swiveled around as his was quickly surrounded by men in black armor.

"Alright, which one of you fuckers wants to go first?" He growled.

"Give it up, Belov. You know you won't get out of this one alive. Not without your unit." One of the armored men dared to take a step forward. The Russian turned, gun raised and ready to shoot him. His eyes glared evenly at the other man's visor. He took a quick glance around at the soldiers surrounding him. Honestly, English wasn't the language he expected to hear. Whoever this was, it wasn't the militia group that him and his unit were here to fight. These men had better gear, better transport, and better training than any desert hillbillies he'd ever seen. This was something different altogether.

He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. The Russian lowered his weapon before letting it drop at his feet.

"On your knees," The man who had first spoken said, motioning at the ground with his gun. The large man slowly lowered to his knees, raising his hands up to rest behind his head in a submissive pose.

"Who are you?" He asked gruffly, looking up at the man before him as cuffs were clamped onto his wrists.

"Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough."

Location unknown
6:24 AM, August 16th, 2166

"Sasha Belov. You're a hard man to get in touch with." A man dressed in a suit walked lightly into the room, holding a file folder in his hand. "Have your accommodations been enjoyable?"

Sasha looked up from the table he'd been staring at for the last hour. The chains around his wrists and ankles were a bit much, he thought. His face sported two black eyes and a busted lip, and probably more under the tacky orange jumpsuit he'd been given. "I've had worse," He grunted.

The suited man sat down in the chair across from him, setting the folder down on the table. "What is this?" Sasha asked, shifting in his chair in a vague attempt to get more comfortable. The table was too low for his knees, and was pressing down on his legs. His cold, steel blue eyes met the ones of the man in front of him evenly. "Who are you?"

Sasha figured he was in the States somewhere, but he couldn't figure out why. He hadn't been in the US in years, so they couldn't possibly want him for anything.

"You can just call me Steve. This, Mr. Belov, is a negotiation." He opened the folder to a front page that read Project: Revenant. Sasha glanced down at it, seemingly unimpressed.

"I prefer non-fiction."

"Cute." 'Steve' turned the page over, showing another page with text and a picture of a ship paper clipped to the top. "My boss's new pet project sent me and my men halfway across the world to a hellhole to drag you out, so you can either listen to our terms or go back into the nice cell you just came out of."

"And if I refuse? What are you going to do? Torture me? Kill me? I've heard it before, Mr. Steve."

Steve raised an eyebrow, meeting the Russian's cold and almost obnoxiously calm stare. He turned the file back around to face him, then flipped through a couple pages until stopping on one with a blurry picture of Sasha's face, captured from a distance. "You like stay under the radar, Sasha, but in this day and age, that's a very hard thing to do. Let's see what we have here...some medical records...Shipment numbers...a few false identities, and... what are all these trips to Nigeria, hm? What's that all about?"

Sasha slowly straightened up in his chair, a spark of anger in his eyes breaking the calm facade. Steve looked up at him with a knowing smirk.

"What do you want from me?" Sasha growled, his voice taking on an venomous tone.

"We want you on our side," Steve said. "Our plan is to gather a special task force of...undesirables. Criminals, thugs, killers, people of that persuasion. You and your teammates will work for us. You'll get paid for your efforts, and you won't be a pain in our ass anymore. It's a win-win."

"You want me to work with criminals?" Sasha leaned back in his chair, slowly regaining his cool.

"You know, your work, however well intended it may be, is illegal. You're just a guilty as everyone else on this ship, and I think you know that."

Sasha glanced down at the file, at the picture of the ship. "So I'll be in space? Inside a piece of shit tin can."

Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I know it's not your preferred scenery, but we can send you a View-Master if that would keep you happy."

Chronos Station
Current day

Sasha spent the trip out to the station in his cell, brooding over the choice he'd been forced to make. The only consolation was that he would be given enough for this nonsense to retire on. His eyes glanced from the book in his hands to the porthole his small space was provided with. The ship was pulling up to the station, and soon, he would be unloaded like cattle to meet his new unit. He highly doubted they would fill the boots of his old one.

As the ship docked, one of the guards opened his cell and tossed his duffle bag inside. "Get changed," He grunted. Sasha stood, still wearing the ugly orange jumpsuit. At least he would be more comfortable in his own clothes, rather than the ill fitted garment he had on. About fifteen minutes later, just as he was securing his wrist mount in place, the guards ushered him out of the cell and out into the loading bay. There was a group already gathering there. Sasha eyed the people around him for a moment before some guy began going over the same spiel he'd already heard about collecting a team of degenerates.

As the captain departed, taking the guards with him, Sasha was left in a bit of disbelief. Maybe they figured the ones that were stupid enough to run could be weeded out right here. Regardless, he was perfectly content with the Stryker guy's resolve to not socialize the group. The less he had to interact with these assholes, the better.

Outer Alliance Space
New Trausen
Just outside of Haven Township
1:27 pm, July 31, 2166

"Okay, Nate, do your drone thing, we have three minutes before the announcement. Make sure you get in before that." Came in a voice over the radio.

"Sure thing, but please, at least try not to use our actual names over the radio, it always leads to trouble." Said am older man inside an old jeep, with just basic clothing and a helmet on. About twenty minutes drive away, a small drone was making it's way through the ventilation system of the Alliance centre, were a recording of the Executor Lara would soon make a speech about the colonisation anniversary of this planet.

The small sphere flew down into a central command centre, the clock ticking to 1:28. The centre was busy, but no-one noticed it slip through into the main computer room. A small connector slipped out and accessed the computer. "Okay, Red, you're up." The man said back in the jeep. There was no answer, but the firewalls soon dropped. "Transferring now." The clock ticked forward to 1:29.

The drone was suddenly wrenched out from the computer, and the camera on it's front went black. "Crap, Klacker, drone's gone dark, I think someone's onto us!" The man yelled out, before the van's doors were wrenched open, several people in dark armour storming in, wrenching the helmet off the man, and slamming him onto the floor.

"Nate? Nate! Did the files transfer?" Came a voice from the helmet, before it was turned off. Nathan was forced into a truck outside, and it started to drive away.

---

New Trausen
Haven City Centre
1:30 pm, July 31, 2166

A screen came up of Executor Lara, everyone living in Haven being forced to stand in the square, expecting the same old speech. "Hello, citizens of the Alliance." Started the recording. "Today --- I realized something. The Alliance is not fit to rule this township or this planet. So today, I am happy to announce that the new mayor of this town will be... Jackson Dunning. And control of this planet goes to Tyler Newmoore. Thank you citizens." The recording ended, and all the Alliance forces looked confused.

Inside the control centre was chaos, people not understanding how the recording was changed, and accusations were hurled, proclaiming people to be traitors. Meanwhile in the square, a man chuckled to himself. A single call to Alliance forces, and an extra $50,000, along with his base $100,000, were transferred to his account, and the woman involved.

---

Alliance Blacksite
Interrogation Room
8:00 am, August 10, 2166

"Hello, Nathan Briar. My name is Christen Fareed, and I'm here to see if you'd like to get out of here. On our terms of course." Said a government looking man.

"You have no right to hold me here, I am an innocent man being held against my will." Said the man, rough looking, from the week spent in this jail.

"We have every right, you are a criminal, and, along with many previous felonies, started a coup on... New Trausen I believe it was. One of your buddies, a certain Klacker I believe, turned you in. As you can see, there is no loyalty among criminals." Christen said, looking smug as he did it.

Nathan barely blinked, muttering, "Knew I shouldn't have trusted a merc." Then, louder, asked "Okay, what are your terms?"

"Simple," Christen said, smirking. "you join Project: Revenant" He slid a file over at that point "And we reduce your jail time for each mission, until you can become a citizen. If you refuse, you serve half your term, then we release you into the Deadzone with a beacon on you and tell everyone about your little weakness. We'll also make sure every criminal and employer hates you."

"Fine," Nathan said. "but no-one else ever find out about it, I get all my gear back, including the drone and my cash, and none of my electronics have bugs on them for at least the first month I'm a part of this 'Project: Revenant'."

"Very well, you will be take to Chronos Station soon, until then, we have some unused guard quarters, you are not to leave there unless accompanied by guards, and you will get your things back on the transport ship."

---

Chronos Station

Well, seems like neither of the people in charge were particularly friendly. Guess that's not what they were hired for, though the Captain gets on my nerves. Nathan thought to himself, looking around the place. Smart, leaving with all the guards. Will weed out any people who would run at the first chance. No-one here would be stupid enough to navigate the rest of the station, and even if they did have an air supply to survive in space, they wouldn't get far before someone picked them up. The ship wasn't even an option, they would have trackers on them.

The skeleton/mushroom thing was freaky though, really hoped it wasn't a social creature. Other than that, everyone else seemed at least fairly normal, except for the robot, which seemed more than your standard array of nuts and bolts. Maybe this would be survivable. The ship was in good condition too. I didn't know any of these people, but they were supposed to be good. Although not good enough to evade being caught. Need to remember to let people know about Klacker, the traitorous bastard.

To my dear Tibulus...
Through the many years we have been apart from each other as colleagues and partners-in-crime, I am writing this letter to you to address my idea to you, and I promise you'll fit in right with this crew...

You see, my recent contacts in high places have informed me of a new crew, known as Project: Revenant. The main idea of this investment is that multiple criminals throughout the known universe are assembled in a sort of team, and their aim is to complete missions with this project in exchange for shortened sentences with their crimes that they have committed. Those criminals that refuse would be receiving a consequence that is even worse than death from what I have gathered. The group seems to have gathered a good amount of people in various different specialties, but the main drawback of this is what they don't have and why I'm contacting you in the first place...

They are missing a qualified pilot.

When my friends contacted me asking if I knew any able-bodied pilots who'd be willing to commit to this, the only person I thought of was you. You were my ace in the hole when we were old pals, always getting us out of jams, and I still vividly remember when I saw you race those spaceships through the asteroid belts of your home galaxy. You are the best pilot I know, and even though your criminal record doesn't go past a few speeding tickets, you'd be paid a bit more in rewards from this from what I've gathered.

Attached in this package are all the required credentials, a bit of up-front pay, and a pack of Funganoid cigars. I told my friends that you'd only do it if you received some kind of cigars as an up-front payment, and they definitely delivered.

If you're still interested in this, meet at Chronos Station for the briefing and boarding of the ship.

~ B. S.

---

Chronos Station - Present Day

Tibulus was sitting on a crate, smoking his cigar. Nobody here was particularly kind to anyone else, especially the leaders, and he didn't really care for many words. The main reason he was here was just because he was a hired helper for the ship as nobody involved with this damn project knew how to fly besides him... or maybe some people did, he didn't know. Either way, he'd probably be the main pilot of this vessel in the long-run. Tibulus actually thought it was rather funny how he was near all of these criminals that had to try being angsty and had to work on their crimes. Tibulus had all of his crimes come at him accidentally, and it was honestly rather fitting for him... at least his known crimes. Once the captain was done debriefing, one of the criminals in the room - he believed his name was Stryker - spoke up.

"I don't have anything to say to you scumbags. Just stay out of my way and let me do my job" The nerve of him, dismissing the group as scumbags right off the bat. Sadly for him, this skeleton was not about to take that shit with any sort of face, and as such, Tibulus spoke up. "Sorry you shitlord, I'm gonna be in your way the entire damn time this project is going on. Better learn how to tolerate me now you bastard." This is off to an amazing start already.

Maverick and SAL had stood by silently as the shuttles arrived one by one. When they had all gathered and Captain Dawson began speaking, Grayson blinked twice to engage the cybernetics in his eye, and sized up everyone in the room. The soldiers were no threat, a few had minor cyber-mods, but apart from that, they were all human. He scanned each of his new teammates for weak points, smiling as he compiled information in case any of them ever turned on him. The Funganoid spoke up to the abrasive tone of their supposed squad leader. Maverick chuckled as muttered sideways at SAL.

"This'll be good"

---

"Sorry you shitlord, I'm gonna be in your way the entire damn time this project is going on. Better learn how to tolerate me now you bastard."
Stryker rounded on the Funganoid and marched over, one hand still firmly on his pistol's grip. He grabbed Tibulus' shoulder and pulled him close to the visor of his mask, whispering so none of the others would hear.

"You're the volunteer then? You must be insane, or a little empty up there, no one volunteers for a job like this. I'm a nice guy, so I'll give you a little advice. Change your tone when dealing with this lot. They're not as forgiving as me, they're dangerous, and won't hesitate to take you out at the smallest slight. Now that son of a bitch Dawson stuck me on this crew, and honestly I just planned on sticking myself in the cockpit, sealing the door and waiting this disaster out, but since you're here, that's out the window. I don't care if you like me or not, hell maybe I'll even co-pilot for free, but if you have another outburst like that in front of the crew, all you'll be piloting is the transport shuttle, got it?"

Location: City of Jungenbru, planet Taranese.
Date: 3rd of February, 2162.

It was a busy marketplace, in the middle of a big city. People talked loudly, cars drove by both on the ground and in the air, chatter loud as people bought their varying wares and laughed happily in the bright city. This was one of the happier places in the galaxy, far from conflict and terrifying ordeals. In among these walked a tall woman in black, an alien with white skin and black eyes, carrying a weapon on her back. But, this wasn’t unusual. Bounty hunter, perhaps, this place was filled with aliens as it was and she wasn’t one of the worst offenders. She was speaking to someone, and it was reported that she placed a hand on his forehead, since this struck those who watched as just the slightest strange.

Then the woman, in a single deft movement, reached behind her with her free hand and grabbed her halberd before swinging it in a flawless slice which cleaved the man’s throat. He died immediately and fell back as a string of blood launched into the air from the woman’s sharp blade. Multiple screams were let out around her, and people called for the police. The woman was utterly calm, despite the action she had just committed and the screams of the terrified crowd around her. Police weren’t far away, and arrived directing their weapons at her, telling her to stand down. She pushed them back and off their feet with but a motion of her hand, using psionics. They started firing. The woman deftly dodged, in a way that seemed impossible, like she knew where they’d shoot, before she closed the distance and hacked at them with her halberd.

That day, their police force was left decimated. The woman darted from officer to officer, cutting them, incapacitating them so they fell bleeding and screaming onto the ground. The ground and surroundings quickly became stained with red. When reinforcement came, they found her stained with blood and standing with her halberd raised over a sea of injured, screaming and bleeding police officers. And if that wasn’t bone-chilling enough, the woman was smiling. A creepy, pleased and ill-fit smile, as if she was proud of herself or simply enjoying the sound of the screams which surrounded her. With this, it came as no illusion to the police that they needed help. A bounty was quickly put on her head.

With the bounty that was put on her head, a chase instigated. Yet, tracking her down seemed to always end up with blood spilled all over the ground around her before she fled again. Soon enough she vanished from the planet, just as more extreme measures were being put into motion, the law enforcements lamenting their inability to defeat the threat. And this one incident… was only the beginning of what would amount to the reputation of one of the deadliest criminals in the galaxy…

______

Location: Chronos Station
Date: Today (19th of August, 2166?)

And here she stood. In among these soldiers in armor suitable for the age and with blaster-weapons for shooting purposes or what-have-you-not other things, stood also a tall woman in what appeared to be medieval armor with gems attached to it. Lataniva listened, her skin unnaturally white and eyes black, in her armor, spikes going a bit of everywhere from it. Here and there on the armor were gems, including one on the headband that held her long black hair directed backwards. On her back was a long halberd, with small blades on the end, strapped to her back. She might have looked strangely out-of-place.

Some here may know her reputation. If nobody else, bounty hunters should know her, for a price has long rested on her head.



She listened with a blank, almost mildly bored-looking expression as she looked at Dawson. This was information she already knew. Then, it was over to Stryker. He made it clear he had no intention of making friends. Didn’t bother Lataniva too much. She understood. For the moment, there was nothing immediate she felt like commenting on, for now she would stand and listen. For now.

The Funganoid chuckled at the thought of volunteering for this. This was a prickly bounty hunter, and one that might not like being taken for the edgy scum that Tibulus saw deep within him. Tibulus responded to the angered bounty hunter with a slight tone of sarcasm and a pinch of smartass. "Heh. I'm not volunteering to do this. Volunteering is unpaid work, if you forgot that. I'd also like to see you try taking down something that's already deceased, I really look forward to it. This being said, I'd rather not have to feel the simulated pain you'd attempt to bring onto me, and as such, I'm going to stand down and let you simply go wallow in your own self-absorbed past. You don't get in my way with what I'm doing, and I'll stay out of yours with what you're doing. As long as we both do these things, we're cool." A small jolt of electricity pierced through the jumpsuit and shocked Stryker as the Funganoid finished his sermon, and with that, the skeleton leaned back on the crate and continued to smoke his cigar. "Oh, and you'd be the one piloting the transport shuttle, not me."

Location: Golat III
Golat III was renowned as being an extremely hot planet, with long hot days and short freezing cold nights. Despite this it was also know to be a large hotspot for illegal trade and under the table deals. This was because no law enforcement was on the planet that wasn't lazy or being bribed, and any orbital scans wouldn't work that well.

But, despite the heat there was one man out and about, and he didn't seem to be that effected by the heat. He was out there because he was looking for a certain building. He found it, and it was an old nightclub, or at least that what the owners wanted people to think. In reality it was a giant warehouse full of illicit items, drugs, guns etc. All worth a fortune.

All highly flammable.

A security camera caught the whole thing from outside saw what happened. The man in the armour kicked open the door and used his flamethrower on the opening. Fire and smoke obscured most of what happened on the inside, but according to most reports, the attack lasted about five minutes and about twenty bodies were found inside.

It was unknown however who the victims were, as the bodies were too scorched for facial recognition and all DNA was destroyed. But eveeryone was sure that the man with the flamer made it out alive, mainly because the cameras showed him leaving the building, dragging an unknown person behind them in one hand, and a large case in the other.

---

Location: Chronos Station
Hadrian was stood on the loading deck along with the others. He was there because after the incident on Golat III Hadrian was approached by some spook working for some governemnt agency that he immediately forgot what it was called.

They made him a very interesting offer. They wanted him to work on some top secret project, work with other bad people to do bad stuff for a quote 'good cause' as they called it. In exchange, protection for what he did in the past to all those other nasty people.

They also offered him something he had been looking for for the longest time. Information. He has looked for this info for a while now, he has tried many times to acquire it and many means to do so, everything from bribery to torture. And yet nobody told him, until now. All he had to do was be patient and keep killing people. It suited him fine, even if they lied about what they had, they knew something. And if meant going to war with an entire govenrment, so be it.

Meanwhile he had to put up with this lot. There seemed to be a few who thought themselves better than the rest. Like they shit gold rather than actual shit. You could practically see the dick measuring going on. But, he decided not to get involved with that. Ge would try and be somewhat friendly with the others, hell he had even heard of a few of these people and was impressed that the spooks had convinced them to tag along on their weird ass project.

Underneath his helmet he smiled a bit and decided to try and see if anyone was willing to be reasonable, at peast with him. He cleared his throat a bit and spoke as loudly as he could.

"Ladies and gentleman, I am sorry to bother you, but I am the ships chef. So, if there is any dietary requirements you have, anything you are allergic to or anything that you would like me to cook for you, please let me know. Thank you for your time."

Sasha crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide the boredom that was setting in. He was beginning to miss that cozy little cell on his transport ship, and his book that was in his bag. It just seemed like they were wasting time here. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could go back to the work that actually mattered.

They were barely five seconds in when the skeleton/mushroom looking thing picked a fight with their so called leader. Sasha remained silent throughout the exchanges. So far, he wasn't overall impressed with this little rag tag group. He was gonna be pissed if one of these fuckers got him killed.

The man beside him, who appeared to be wearing a long coat and a veil of some sort, spoke up as their cook. Sasha raised an eyebrow, briefly wondering how sanitary this guy could be with all shit covering every inch of his skin. He had to smell bad under there.

Finally, he decided that it was probably time to introduce himself as well. He, too, had been given a specific job on this team.

"My name is Sasha," He said, his deep, accented voice clear and calm. "I will be the team medic. I am a registered RN, and I specialize in battlefield first aid. If you have any medical conditions I should know about, then you should probably tell me before we go out into the field."

Location: Low-Velocity Asteroid Kzarkon 3Z, Okarcorp Prison/Mineral Mines
Date: Did not keep track.

They always asked why Vavnr kept track of every time the bell rang. The bell rang four times a day, and so far, it had rung 1514 times. He had an extensive system of tally marks on the walls of his cell to make sure he wasn't being kept a day over his time. There were so many people, so many corporations that wanted his head, that he wouldn't be surprised if he became one of the permanents. Just one of those individuals that was never told when they had the right to leave... And was beaten whenever they asked at the wrong time. Vavnr walked up a flight of stairs, to a balcony overlooking the cafeteria. Along this balcony was his cell, where he went to mark the day's second ringing.

It was at that time he met the Warden, standing in front of his cell. The crusty old bat had some pretty interesting security measures. Though he lost his eye and some digits in the process, he managed to beat the hell out of the biggest of his fellow Prison Board Members, who, in turn, he had beat the hell out of his biggest guards, who beat the hell out of the other guards, who beat the hell out of nearly every prisoner over the course of the week. Warden Reott was the Alpha of the entire prison. If the guards couldn't stop you, 762 inmates would. This made it particularly threatening when he showed up, alone, in front of his cell, and asked, "What the hell did you do, you little shit!?" in a tone that was anything but jovial.

"I just finished up my quota for the day-quarter, and I'm working on a hobby I recently picked up. Good afternoon to you too, Warden!"

"I have received word from higher-up..." This was really good. Reott never mentioned anyone being above him, he always wanted to feel like a god among men, bosses interfered with that, "Okarcorp is selling their share of your sentence to the Humans in exchange for trade subsidies and tariff cuts... Cidacorp and Rippacorp have also cashed in."

"Oh? Whatever for?"

"That is what I am asking you, slimeball!" His growl wavered with annoyance Vavnr hadn't ever heard before, "Do not play coy with me!"

"Okay, fine, I'll lay my cards on the table... So to speak, anyway. I don't know what's going on, and the moment I walk out the front gates and try to contact them, you're going to find some minor misdemeanor or something and imprison me again for 1st degree suspicion!"

"The humans seemed aware of this. That is why they offered to sweeten the deal for Okarcorp with an additional 100,000 Units up front. In exchange..." The warden bit his tongue in disgust, "When their representative arrives, you will be considered a Class 4 Okarcorp diplomat for 28 homeworld hours."

"Wow? A diplomat?" Vavnr smiled, however incredulous, "I've always wanted to be a diplomat! What class of diplomacy was it again?"

"Class 4." The Warden glared down at him with his good eye and his lack of eye, "Your clock is ticking."

"The representative's here?"

"They sent me to escort you personally."

"I don't need an escort, the law's on my side now." Vavnr said cheerfully. He then smacked his claws into the side of the Warden's face and threw his muzzle hard into the balcony railing.

"VAVNR SAMN, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" shouted the warden, standing up to his full height and swinging blindly around to hit him, "I WILL KILL YOU! YOU ARE DEAD! DEAD LITTLE SHIT!"

"That's not very diplomatic of you! A Class 4 Diplomat could have you imprisoned for saying things like that during an international event!"

The Warden roared, leaping up into the air, ready to dropkick hooked claws into his chest, but Vavnr ducked underneath him and spun around, slamming his tail into the Warden's back. His claws were in the Warden's face again, and he pulled the old man to his feet, though he took a few blows to the midsection, leaving small claw tears in his uniform and minor scratches in his hide. The old Warden was scrappy, but definitely not the boxer he used to be.

"You're a gentleman and a scholar, Warden Reott." Vavnr said, "I know we've had our ups and downs together, but I really want you to know, in no uncertain terms, how much of an honor it's been extracting minerals for you."

Claws were breaking skin over the Warden's jaws as he tried to speak, "Frck... Yoo..."

"It wasn't!" Vavnr said, headbutting the Warden and then tossing him over the railing.

He then took the opportunity to yell "I'M THE ALPHA NOW!" down into the cafeteria as the warden picked himself up and started running, as fast as he could, toward the stairs.

Location: Chronos Station

Vavnr was in the process of sitting down and setting up a game of solitaire on his lap when the Captain left. Thank goodness he finally stopped talking. Now he could finally converse with cohorts. He looked up from his game so he could subtly cheat.. against himself... And also look at his new co-workers. It was an astounding array of misfits, though it was mostly a colorful assortment of boob-ape lookalikes, it did vary. There were animals, vegetables, and minerals, so it all came full circle. He must have been the token reptile.

It wasn't long before someone was accusing him of murdering again. Well, in this case, he was being accused of hypothetical murder, but it was still good to see that nothing had changed since his time out of prison. He'd like to think he'd be nicer to this fine fungal fellow than this bounty hunter gave him credit for. Prison changes people, after all. Well, it changes people enough to know that sticking one's claws in a forming rift only digs it up further, so maybe it would be best to talk to someone else... The chef! Yes, the chef! That's the one person on a ship that no one argues with!

"Ladies and gentleman, I am sorry to bother you, but I am the ships chef. So, if there is any dietary requirements you have, anything you are allergic to or anything that you would like me to cook for you, please let me know. Thank you for your time."
@CatchPhrase

"My bowels aren't long enough to digest a salad properly, I'm afraid. It'd be best if I had my vitamins wrapped in animal protein? I'm not sure if your have any vats, but I'm pretty sure as long as you have a variety of animals on hand, I should be fine."

"My bowels aren't long enough to digest a salad properly, I'm afraid. It'd be best if I had my vitamins wrapped in animal protein? I'm not sure if your have any vats, but I'm pretty sure as long as you have a variety of animals on hand, I should be fine."
@Sombrero

Hadrian looked at the one who had spoken up to him about having dietary requirements. He was actually pleasantly surprised, both at the fact that someone would take him seriously and believed him, and at the fact that the one who approached was a Kzargett. While not the first he has met, it was one of the most heavily argumented he had seen.

"Ah, I see you are one of the lizard folk from Kzargett. Sorry, if the term lizard folk offends you, it was a while ago I last met one like you. But, I did happen to find a few recipes that your kind may enjoy, of course it all comes down to supplies and what tools are available. But I am sure I can manage to whip something up that you shall find enjoyable at the least."

He looked down and saw the cards in Vavnr's hands. There seemed to be many cards than were normal for a deck, and with many more suits. They seemed fascinating, and as if they were designed to help the owner cheat easier.

"Interesting deck of cards you have there, once everything is settled I would very much enjoy having a look at how you use them. Ah, but I forgot one important thing. Introductions."

He gave an elegant bow where he extended his left foot, held out his right arm off to the side and put his left to his chest with his head bowed low.

"I am Hadrain Saul, I am also know as Chef Cook-Cook, or just Chef or Cook-Cook respectively. Whom do I have the pleasure of cooking for in the future?"

With that he stood back up and waited patiently for a response.

"I don't mind being called Lizard-folk, there's no reason to. I take it you don't mind being called Mammals?" Vavnr half-smiled, fanning out his draw pile in a single flick of the wrist and scooping the cards up in front of him with subtle movements, before putting the cards in the pocket of his coat, "We're just called Kzargetts, though. Our planets have a lot of other names."

He moved onto his feet and rose up, extending his hand and taking off his hat, "I'm Vavnr Samn, and I also have a lot of other names. None of 'em are pleasant names, though. Speaking of, if you'd like, I can produce just about any card you can name. I've learned a few things in my free time."

Hadrian looked at the hand extended to him, then at the lizard man, Vavnr as he removed his hat. He thought it only polite to return the gesture. He took off his helmet, tucked it under his arm and gave a grin as he gripped Vavnr's hand.

"You look like you have done a lot of things in your life, not all of them good. That in itself is good, I don't think we need any bleeding hearts on this buisness venture of ours."

As he said the last part, he glanced around at a few others who were still hanging around in the hangar. He released his grip and put his helmet back on.

"After all, everyone here is guilty of something. Hell, the guards probably did something to piss someone off to get put on this detail. Ah well, if worse comes to worse I'm sure they'll be of some use. But, enough of that line of thought, let us pass the time till we are allowed to board the ship. I'll see if anyone else is willing to be civil, you see if you can find out anything about the others. Sound good to you?"

"Oh, and you'd be the one piloting the transport shuttle, not me."

"Heh" Stryker chuckled to himself "We'll see sparky, see you on the bridge"
'Lucky if I don't shove him out the airlock' he thought as he walked away.

It was at that moment that Dawson and a half-dozen guards arrived.
"All right you lot, shut it!" Dawson shouted as he took his place in the center of the room "Now we just received a transmission that the last two shuttles are a little late, so it's just as well that the engineers and dockhands are behind schedule in getting the Revenant ready to depart. We'll hold off the briefing until the other two arrive, so in the meantime, lets take a tour"

Dawson began to walk towards the walkway leading to the ship, then doubled back.
"Little bit of housekeeping first, the Alliance has set aside a tidy little fund for this project. There's a terminal on the crew deck where you can place requisition requests, anything that's approved will be brought onboard at the next port. Next, the ship is completely wired with a full suite of surveillance equipment, any attempt to hack, disable or otherwise tamper with the equipment will result in the entire ship's system being shut down, so unless you all feel like being stranded in the Expanse, I'd keep my hands off. If there's anything else, I'm forgetting it, so any questions?"

Location: Girnavox City - Financial District, Planet Tharokan, Polyphemus System

The bustling urban metropolis was filled with vehicles rushing to and fro across the busy lanes of the capital city of Girnavox. Business as usual was conducted under a bright morning sun by both the working men and women, and the shrewd businessmen that dominated most of the city's financial district. The 8th Colonial Bank in particular, stood towering above most of the other structures in the district in one of the city blocks.

The peace was broken as the ground shook and some windows of the huge bank building shattered from the vibrations, causing several bystanders to stop and wonder what was happening.

---

8th Colonial Bank - High Security Vault 3

Benny emerged from behind the steel table he had taken refuge behind as he looked upon the smoking hole where the entrance of the vault used to be. "Alright lads, we've got around 10 minutes before the cops start storming tha' place! Let's grab our package and make for the drop-off point like flies to dogshit!" He announced as he set the 10 minute timer on his HUD. Three armed men wearing heavy yellow armor and packing automatic rifles followed behind him as they ran into the vault.

The vault was filled with various items of great value. Statues were placed in several corners, antique paintings hung on nearly every wall, and gold bars stacked neatly in large blocks were all over the place. If they weren't in such a hurry, Benny would've loved to take a few souvenirs. Unfortunately, they were pressed for time if they were going to stick to the plan.

Benny brought up the holographic display on his bionic arm and interfaced with the security cameras as he quickly scrambled the feeds, making it look as if the feed from Vault 7 was the video coming from Vault 3, which would hopefully throw off the pursuers for a short time as they go into the wrong area of the bank. "Sooo... Wot was it we're lookin' fer again? A small emerald carving of Apollo? Or was it a jade carving?" Benny asked his associates as he scanned the vault for the item they were contracted to steal. A family heirloom, their rich employer said.

One of the armed men turned to him, their helmet with a white skull painted over it. "Actually, we've got what we're looking for right here." He said in his deep electronically distorted voice. The 3 men turned towards Benny and raised their weapons and pointed it at Benjamin.

"Drop your weapons, Benjamin Quincy! You're under arrest!" the man said.

Suddenly, the entrance of the vault was blocked off by several Alliance police officers with riot shields and armed men who appeared from out of nowhere. "Drop all of your weapons and explosives and get on the ground!" The fake mercenary said as laser dots started appearing on Benny's body. Benny himself slowly turned his head around and let out a long sigh.

"I knew somethin' was off abou' this job... Alrigh' officers, you caught me. I'll do as you say." Benny said as he turned around and dropped several primed sleep grenades whose gas started to spread across the room. The riot police's helmet quickly sealed into rebreather units and the marksmen positioned in the back fired their tranquilizers into the laser dots across Benny's body. The fake mercenaries however weren't as lucky as the riot police. Their armor lacked any environmental filters so they coughed violently before passing out from the gas.

"Tha' migraine you'll get from this gas when you wake up is a real bitch! Enjoy it ya' dickheads!" He shouted in defiance as the tranquilizers took effect and the riot police began tackling him down.

---

Benny started stirring, though his vision was still blurry. He blinked as he felt the headache from the tranquilizers he was shot with start to hit him. "I feel like the mornin' after a round o' drinks at Gerbie's Lounge... And the shit he sold was banned in 3 star systems... He thought to himself. Not long after that, he noticed an odd imbalance in his body weight. Glancing towards his left side he was immediately shaken awake at the sight of his missing bionic arm. Meanwhile his right arm was strapped to a chair while a metal table was set in front of him. The walls surrounding him looked like they were made of brick instead of the reinforced walls usually seen inside a police precinct.

“Alright! I don’t know who you are but this definitely don’t look like any police station I eva’ been in. What do ye want with me?!” He shouted at no one in particular, though he was sure that someone had to have been listening to him and keeping an eye on their prisoner. As if on cue, a caucasian man entered the room wearing a black, well-tailored suit and sat down on the other side of the table. He appeared to be in his late forties, had a clean-cut face, and neatly-combed blonde hair.

“Greetings, Benjamin Quincy. Alias: “Benny Boomer”. Wanted for 5 counts of theft, 7 counts of arson, 12 counts of possession of illegal weapons, and over 20 counts of vandalism and destruction of private and public property. This record could get someone locked away for a very long time, Mr. Quincy.” The man said.

“Did ya figure that out by yourself, Sherlock? Having a long list o’ crimes is bloody good motivation for staying outta’ jail. Who are you people anyhow? I can tell this is no police station, so jus’ tell me what’s got ya interested in me.” Benny replied.

“Call me Mr. Pliskin. I represent an organization that can get you locked away for an even longer time than your crimes should hold you for… Or offer you a way out of it.” Pliskin replied.

“I’ve dealt with enough criminal scumbags ta’ know that there’s always a catch. What is it?” Benny replied while staring straight towards the suited man

“We have a classified project going by the codename: Project Revenant. It is a government initiative where we gather people of your… skills and background… together to perform special tasks for The Alliance. Do your job, and you will be rewarded handsomely, you may not even need to return to be sent to jail if you make us happy enough. Fail, and we will deny all knowledge of the project and leave you and your colleagues to face the consequences of what we ask you to do. Surely this is a lot more fun than staying inside a jail cell, Benjamin. After all, don’t you choose the jobs you take with how exciting they are?” Pliskin asked.

“Ya’… But I know my limits, and I know not ta’ trust some government lapdog on his words alone. Yer’ obviously not expecting any of us to come back alive after we’ve outlived our usefulness. What if I’d rather be in a jail cell than to fling myself into some classified mission that could be tha’ death o’ me.?” Benny asked.

“If you would rather be locked away then we will be… forced… to investigate these suspicious transactions you have made over the years. Large credit transfers sent from proxy to proxy. We haven’t investigated each of the credit trails yet but we have seen that most of them lead back to Earth. I wonder who you are sending all of that to. It would be such a shame if this person were to suffer the wrath of all of the people you wronged to get that money…” Pliskin said with an arrogant grin.

Benny tried to free himself from his seat and shook it around violently. “How tha’ bloody Hell did you track all of those down!? I sent them over dozens of different proxies across different star systems! They were supposed ta’ be untraceable!” Benny shouted angrily.

“We have our ways. But that’s not what you should be concerned with right now. If you accept our offer and become part of Project Revenant, we will drop the investigation into these credit transfers, and all of your enemies will be none the wiser. If you turn us down or try to escape, then I can’t say what will happen to this friend you have on the other end of the credit line.” Pliskin replied.

Benny stopped struggling and had his face turned downwards.

“… Fine… Tell me what ya’ need me to blow apart. But give me back ma’ arm and gear first.”

---

One of the last shuttles arrived on Chronos Station, carrying with it the notorious Benny Boomer. He was transferred out through a secure wheelchair and brought out to where the rest of the criminals and mercenaries had gathered on the walkway leading to the ship. “I bet some of ya’ wankers get off on keeping me tied down like this! Bloody Hell these things are tight!” He said out loud. As soon as he was surrounded by the other guards, they unlatched him and handed back his bionic arm from a sealed metal container.

”Ol’ Skelly! I am so glad ta’ see ya!” Benny said as he took the container and pulled out the metallic limb. He then hugged the arm and spoke more quietly. ”I hope they didn’ mistreat ya’. Don’ worry, daddy’s here now…” He said as he cradled it in his arm. One of the guards grabbed Benny’s shoulder and directed him to the group led by Captain Dawson which had just begun his explanation of the ship’s terminals and requisition system, and also how trying to tamper with the ship would trap them all in space.

The Guard called the captain’s attention before turning back to Benny. “Fix your arm back onto you once you’re aboard, until then, pay attention to the captain.” The guard said sternly.

“Sure thing, dad!” Benny replied mockingly as he walked towards the group. He was wearing the usual jumpsuit given to the prisoners but his distinct lack of a left arm was obvious as the sleeve swung about in the air.

“Any questions?” Captain Dawson asked as he finished his explanation. Benny lifted up his detached bionic arm to get the captain’s attention. “Do we get our own rooms? ‘Cause any poor bastard who bunks with me is going ta’ die from lack of sleep. I make lots’a noise when I’m workin’” Benny asked the Alliance captain.

"Any questions?" Hadrian looked at the Captain and pondered on that, then the newcomer voiced his questions. He was a strange man, he had an air of confidence about him, or arrogance depending on how you viewed it. Though his question did spark something in him.

Hadrian required as little light as possible when out of his armour, his skin was highly sensitive to most light, hence the armour he nearly always wore. Plus, he liked his privacy, and sharing a room with someone he didn't know, let alone trust, was not something he would like.

"I too would like to know if we have our private rooms. Afterall, we hardly know and trust one another. It would help ease us into working together if we had our own private quarters. Also, since I am the ships chef, I would like to know if I can control the lights in the kitchen, is that possible?"

Lataniva stood silent, listening to the words of the others. Hadrain Saul, the chef. Sasha, the medic. She knew she needed roughly the same nutrients as a human, and didn’t in particular have any medical conditions or she wouldn’t have been here in the first place. As such, there was no need to speak out. Vavnr Samn, a Kzargett. Very well. She stood and listened to Hadrain and Vavnr’s conversation. Those seemed to have hit off. Maybe there was a chance of good teamwork in this group despite how the captain and mushroom had interacted.

And then, they were going to be late. That wasn’t an issue. With the gathered group practically in chains, they had done their waiting already. But…

She asked, gesturing to Stryker. She knew they’d have to lie. It was likely death was preferred to being captured. Oh, and now that she had opened her mouth, anyway…

She shrugged briefly, giving a suggestion.

Lataniva delivered her warning with a tiny smile. Highly improbable, given how few Dalentians existed in the universe at large, but the possibility existed.

"Any questions?" the Captain asked. That was a good one.

Vavnr was always a lizard of simple tastes. Especially pertaining to questions. He scratched his own shoulder with his tail and stroked his chin, as if seriously considering what question he would ask. He already knew what question he would ask. In fact, he had this in mind the moment he knew there was going to be a briefing, and therefore a captain asking "Any questions?" by the end.

"What's the biggest gun you have available?" Vavnr smiled, though his tone was dead serious, "And can I have it?"

Location: Rif Research Facility, Haghich System

“Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be. Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,” a rich and beautiful female voice reverberates within the walls of the innermost portion of the facility. The source of the voice is a figure that is walking gracefully with the slow tune towards the middle of the room.

”While up aloft, in storm or gale, from me his absence mourn, and firmly pray, arrive the day, he home will safe return.”

The scene would have been serene if not for the unconscious bodies that lay on the floor, or the environmental armor and helmet that she wears. Dim red lights glow from the helmet's one-way glass that obscures the singing woman's face. The lights would appear like some spider's eyes and fangs, befitting the scene around her.

”My name it is Maria, a merchant's daughter fair. And I have left my parents and three thousand pounds a year.”

With practiced elegance, she disarms the final alarm that protected the data card that she was sent to take. Its data was said to hold some information about an advanced combat A.I. prototype that was banned in almost a dozen star systems because of its ability to learn and adapt in an almost incomprehensible speed despite its size.

”My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold, There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor b--”

Her song was stopped with the sound of explosion behind her and smoke grenades being tossed in the room. She was about to turn towards the source of the noise but an electric slug was shot towards her before she could finish her motion. The woman falls to the ground, convulsing as the strong electric shocks passed through her body, and all turns to black.

---

Location: Unknown, Unknown system

The woman wakes, but does not open her eyes nor make a sound. She tries to listen in or even feel for her surroundings, but nothing useful came out of it other than the fact that she was lying down and that she was feeling particularly uncomfortable and restrained in something tight. There was also something on her face, but she dares not open her eyes to see what it was. The woman laid unmoving for a few moments, not wanting to alert those who apprehended her that she was awake but the silence and emptiness of the room was deafening to her. The shrill sound of nothingness screamed at her loudly, urging her to scream back at it in hopes of filling the void. Thankfully, for her, lights flooded the room so fast and so brightly that it forced her to wince.

“We know you're awake. Stand up and sit down.” a raspy male voice called out to her from the other side of the room. The woman was then forced to open her eyes slowly to allow herself to adapt to the sudden change in lighting. She would have pulled her arms up to cover her eyes, had it not been tied down, in a loose sense of the term.

Matija looks towards the direction of the voice and sees herself in a white padded room with three other people. One of them is a man wearing a black office type suit which sat on a chair, just in front of two armed men which she presumed as his guards or escort of sorts. ”Who-” As she spoke, she notices that she could not move her mouth as easily as she would have wanted to. Looking down, she also realises that she is bound, not with ropes or anything that she was used to. Instead, she finds herself inside a strait jacket.

”YOU!” she shouts out angrily at the man. With some effort, she manages to stand up and run towards the suited man. Before she could reach him, one of the guards moves to intercept her and then hit her with the butt of their rifle to knock her down. The same armed guard then points the rifle towards her as she crumples to the floor.

”FfffFFFFUCK! I SWEAR, I'LL RIP YOUR NECK OFF'A YOU!”

“Real cute, Holmström. Tell me, how the hell would you do that with that muzzle, hm?” the man in the suit spoke with amusement in his rough voice as he wordlessly orders the guard to stand down.

Matija was about to retort, but she was stopped when the suited man spoke again.

“But whatever. I was sent to this crazy ward to invite you to a party, freak. It's called the Revenant project. I suggest you don't refuse.” The man said cooly and adjusted his tie while saying so.

”Tch! And what if I do refuse, huh? What're YOU gonna do? Report back to H.Q. and tell your boss? Why don't you go do that, pig?” Matija defiantly spoke, challenging the man to do something to her as a response, but got nothing more than an unamused chuckle.

“Funny that you should say that,” the suited man grinned as he moved his face menacingly closer to Matija's. “I mean, I can just get you stuck here for life. Or even order these guys to kill you. It'll be a favor to the entirety of the galaxy anyway. Or... I have a better idea! I could give a go signal for the manhunt for... Hmm... Who was that again? Pops? I wonder if he has enemies willing to know where he is too...”

Matija's face darkened at the realization, which then turned into seething rage. ”DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!” She headbutts the suited man's face, disorienting him and causing him to reel over. The guards swiftly retaliated by hitting her with the butt of their rifles, again, and kicking her till she could no longer fight back.

“YOU BITCH!” The suited man hisses as he holds his bloody nose. “You're gonna pay for that! GUARDS!”

With that command, Matija was dragged out of her cell and into another wing of the facility where the rest of the night was pierced by her readily weakening screams.

---

Location: Chronos Station, two weeks later

The last shuttle comes in the station utterly late. The disappointment shows in the rest of the crew's tired faces but they continued on in the name of professionalism. As some turn to face the shuttle as it landed, more crew turned towards the ship as the doors opened and an ancient earth song blaringly plays inside its cabin.

“IF YOU WANNA BE MY LOVER, YOU GOTTA GET WITH MY FRIENDS! MAKE 'EM LAST FOREVER, FRIENDSHIP NEVER ENDS,” was the lyrics of the song before the pilot finally turns the speakers off with an obvious look of relief to his face. One of the station's floor managers rush towards the pilot with obvious anger in her face while the pilot and the rest of the crew explained. One of them pushes out someone bound in a wheelchair while another takes out a large heavy looking hard-case. She was bound in a strait jacket and had a muzzle on her grinning mouth.

”So this is the party?” Matija asked as she was being released from her wheelchair-bound torture. ”You guys look so shady and edgy-” she pauses when she sees the skeleton ”Except you. You look cool, Sir- er, Ma'am?” she tilts her head as a querie towards the skeleton's preferences.

”Oh, yeah. Uh, yeah. Bill?” Matija turns towards the person that pushed her wheelchair. “You're gonna untie me and remove the muzzle now, right? That was what your boss told us.” She pokes her tongue out at Bill while she smiles at him. The man sighs, obviously tired of her, but complies to his orders anyway.

The odd-eyed woman turns back towards the people whom she presumed was her new team of sorts, while Bill sluggishly untied her, and smiled at them again. ”So, what'd I miss?”

Sasha was already considering if this job was worth it. They were probably ten, fifteen minutes in, and they already had several 'funny guys' trying to turn this god awful assignment into a comedy club, their leader showing his ass at the skeleton guy, who seemed to think himself some hot shit. They had had a couple token females, one who thought she was being cute, the other who could read minds. Sasha was not a fan of either qualities.

He took a slow, deep breath and kept his mouth shut. Making enemies would do him no good, but holy shit did he want to. When the captain finally returned, giving him something more to listen to than the pissing contest around him, Sasha was happy to pay attention. When question time came up, he finally spoke again.

"So what, exactly, will our first mission be?" He asked. He wanted to know if they actually had a plan, or if they were just going to stand here and jerk each other off all day.