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Norhime was commonly known as the city of trade, and when someone visited it the reason for the name became quite obvious. Hundreds of shops selling so many things that it was impossible to name them all in one lifetime. Among the various shops where of course place to amuse a person for a time. Bars, clubs, movie theaters, and many more things, both legal and illegal under the World Governments laws. It was a perfect hiding place for the Skypirates Guild, disguising themselves as a club and giving overs to their members under the cover of them just entering the place to have a drink or do some dancing.

As it was right now one of the more senior members of the Skypirates Guild, an older woman with long silver hair who went by the name of Maria Mercy was sitting in one of the private back rooms that were advertised for patrons to come into for a drink and a way to get away from the world for a bit. Of course this room was kept for offical Skypirates business, there was no need to soil their meeting room by having people do something behind closed doors that was better left behind them. Maria poured herself a drink of whiskey and swirled it around in her glass, waiting for their newest Captain class recruit to enter into the room to begin discussing their rank and responsibilities.

An average looking man with shaggy brownish-blonde hair slipped into the room, politely closing the door behind him. “Hello,” he greeted her with a crooked smile, extending an arm decorated by a thin bracelet. “I’m Pennington. You asked to see me?”

Maria looked at the man for a moment and waved for him to sit down on one of the couches in the room, pouring a small glass of whiskey and pushing it over to him. “Indeed I did, sit down would you?”

Pennington raised an eyebrow, but complied. Taking a gulp of the alcohol, he asked. “So, what of it?”

The woman drummed her fingers on the table, not one to ever jump to a point quickly. “I understand that you received high marks on the Captain application test, and in terms of the simulations you were not lacking in terms of skills when put under stress, would you say that report is accurate?”

“I’m one of the best pilots you have.” Pennington smirked. “As for the Captain’s application, I’m happy to learn that I scored well.”

Maria scowled a bit at the smirking attitude of the young man, not really used to dealing with those of the younger generation at her age. “The Skypirate Guild council has decided to give you the rights to your own ship, an honor that few receive”

“All right!” Pennington smiled widely. “That’s wonderful, thank you. When can I meet her?”

“Well there are still the finishing modifications being made to your ship at one of our hangars at the outskirts of the city. Your preferred weapons and such are being added on in order to have it suit your needs, your crew is also there waiting for you.” She pulled out a rather large file and handed it over to him. “Names, backgrounds, and specialties of each of them.” a smile pulled at her lips. “I assume you are a people person, yes?”

Pennington smiled, tucking the file underneath his arm. “Ah, come on now, lady. I’m your guy. I assume you already have a job lined up for us?”

Her annoyance barely contained Maria went on. “Yes, I suppose you are well aware that human trafficking is looked down upon, even among the dark corners of our guild correct?”

“Painfully.” Pennington’s smile fell, and he studied the councilwoman. “Has there been a problem?”

“Indeed” she pulled out a black file and opened it, showing a small blood red ship and a picture of a rather large man who appeared to be wearing high tech battle armor over his body. “A slaver by the name of Lumin Polis has been acting as a slaver for years, taking people from both Liyum and Norhime and selling them to the corporations in Ranram when there is a lack of prisoners or desperate people. Because he had the unofficial backing of the World Government we haven’t been able to act against him for the past three years, at least not without causing serious problems for us in the long run.”

“What would you like me to do?” Pennington inspected the pictures, eyes bent into a scowl.

“Lumin has been very careful over the years about who he targets, but recently he made a slip. During one of his many slave runs he accidently captured the teenage daughter of a nobleman who is quite well respected among the World Government, apparently she was having a relationship with a working class man and got herself mixed up. In order to avoid embarrassment the man has had the World Government offer a bounty on the ship and asked interested parties in a more private way to ensure the safe return of his daughter.”

“You’d like me to take him out of play, then.” Pennington made eye contact with her, his own serious.

She nodded. “Of course Underworld 003 also has a bounty on his head but wants him brought in alive, apparently he is in position of PreWar technology, who knows what they might offer if you were to bring him in” she bit her lip gently. “And most of his crew are slaves as well, so well killing the crew is an option just taking him out of play will most likely end the battle as well”

Pennington nodded. “I have free rein on this, right? No meddling?”

“No, you are free to do as you please, but remember how you act on this mission will be looked at by the council in order to decide if your scores are enough to warrant you being Captain of your own ship.”

Standing, Pennington again extended his free hand, tipping over the now empty shot glass. “I’ll see you then, Lady.”

The woman reached forward and took his hand. “May luck find you safely young man”

Pennington walked up to the crew, who sat or stood around a table near the ship, now freshly dubbed The Understanding. Smirking to himself, the man tucked the files into his backpack, and dropped it onto the ground in front of his boots. "Hello there, crew. I'm your Captain, Sam Pennington. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

Moments earlier.....

Butch Advent was quietly finishing up his look at Mexa-One, his personal Flight Frame, affectionately nicknamed Orion.

The brown haired, bespectacled man dressed in jeans and a long-coat was inspecting the mech all over to make sure it was fine and ready to work.

"It's ok Orion buddy, the guild would've taken great care of you and made sure you're all ready and working. Besides now we have a ship to work on together, aint that grand?" Butch joked as he turned the mech on and off with the key, making sure everything from weapons to modes was all in order.

"It's funny really. I've been trying to make my way into a role as Captain and all, I mean having my own ship is pretty great but even if I never have the position I'm still pretty content with working on this ship and piloting you. As long as I'm doing some good and helping people, it's all worth it in the end." Butch remarked, as he inspected all the weapons the mech had at its disposal.

"Well then I think you're gonna be great. But just one more thing." Butch commented as he turned the mech off and tried his envoker powers on it, electrocuting the whole thing until it turned back on. "Wow! it did work. This is gonna be great, just imagine the possibilities. We'll kick plenty of ass and...... I need to stop talking to you as if you're alive."

Butch quietly sighed in embarrassment as he turned off Orion with his powers and left the mech in the same condition he entered it in. With that done he quietly jogged to the ship's exit, throwing the mech's key up and down in his hand as he got to the rest of the crew beside the table. Just in time to see the captain arrive. Butch looked on with interest as the man introduced himself with the name Sam Pennington.

Butch was one of the first to walk up to Sam, shaking his hand and replying "Pleasure to meet you sir. The name's Butch Advent, I'm one of the Flight Frame Pilots here."

Sam grinned, taking his hand and giving a firm, steady shake. "Nice to meet you, Butch. You pilot the Orion, of course. How do you like the Understanding?"

Butch smiled back, replying "It's a lovely ship if I say so myself. A nice, big size. Great weaponry and firepower. All that sort of stuff. I love it a lot. You're a lucky man to be its captain."

"Ah, well. Hope to do her justice." Sam smiled again, and nudged his pack. "All right. We can do more introductions later, I suppose. Right now we have a job to do. There's a man, a slaver wanted by the Underworld 003 and the World Government. He kidnapped the wrong girl, and now they all want him dead. We don't. We're going to pay Lumin Polis a visit, and we're going to stop his slave trade. Any questions?"

"No questions from me. A slaver that kidnapped the wrong girl eh? Most people in the slave trade are scum and god knows what that poor girl must be feeling. I'm game to get to work." Butch replied, a little excited to start this mission.

Up until this point Aug had been sitting quietly, communicating with his head droid about the new ship. The tiny snake-like robot was resting curled around his index finger.

So the repairs and enhancements are coming along smoothly?

'Course boss. So is the stiff the new guy.

Aug imperceptibly to any human shook his head. I will never understand how you developed this personality Number 1. But yes the "stiff" is the new Captain. Time will tell if he's any good at his job though. Ah slavers, this should make for an entertaining job. Aug's satisfaction was stifled not a moment later when the news of who was handling the bounty. Underworld? Number 1. Go deliver a message to Soren. I believe the two of us will have to talk privately after this meeting.

On it boss, just leave it to me. Then the tiny drone unwrapped itself and slithered to the ground to deliver its message. Aug simply raised his hand. "Captain while I have no problem going up against slavers isn't there anyone else we can deliver them to? And I'm not talking about the World Government. Can't we just drop them off with someone in the police force who will take them to Underworld? I have had dealings with them in the past and the rewards they offer boast considerable risk."

Sam's eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward. "You're one of my soldiers, aren't you?"

Aug stared back unflinchingly. "Yes I am. However that in no way means that I must not question potential paths to the goal nor blindly obey your every whim. As I presume you were about to imply or outright state within the next five seconds. It would be wise to take into account my suggestion."

Sam grinned, stepping back a pace. "Actually, I was just musing over a different plan. I wanted to wait for more information to present itself before speaking about it. In any case, I do respect your opinion, and I'm thankful for the input."

Like a gangly white spider, Soren Rosencreutz peels away from a shadowed alcove, kneels and picks up the wriggling droid. Just far enough away from the table to seem a part, but not apart.

"Tell your master," he murmurs, lips barely moving, inaudible to everyone else, "that he must wait in line. I'll speak with him after I speak to the cook and the captain."

Behind opaque black visors, Soren watches the crew, the new captain. He doesn't need to frame his thoughts in words, having run through the same computation so many times. Better to remain apart; better that they not feel him; better for them; better for him. Aug understands.

Slaver. The sort of human who presumes authority over other humans through force; a non-human human. Lumin Polis.

Not to kill him. Not to feast him. Return him.

If Soren gets lucky, there might be a chance for some fresh fare after all.

The new captain has an interesting topology. Time to add a new face to his collection; more reason to speak to the captain; more niceties to get out of the way.

Soft as savannah grass rustling in the wind, Soren clicks.

Miguel shifted uncomfortably in his chair while the introductions began. He didn't like sitting still with nothing to keep his mind occupied. He'd rather be in the kitchen with vegetables and meats to slice and sear, or in an office with papers and books to puzzle over.

During a break in the conversation, he nodded to the new captain. "Miguel Cruz," he introduced himself. "I'll be in charge of making sure nobody here starves."

"Nice to meet you, Cruz." Sam faced the cook with a smile. "I suppose you all already know of the ship?"

"I've seen the specs," said Miguel. "It's not the same, though. I find that I never really have a feel for a ship until I've had a chance to explore it in real space."

"Fair enough." Sam slipped his arm down, catching the arm of his backpack in one smooth motion. Shrugging it onto one shoulder, he surveyed the crew eagerly. "Prepare to shove off, crew. I'll be in my cabin if anyone needs me."

"You got it Cap." Butch replied cheerfully as he went inside the ship, swinging around the Orion's key on his finger as he entered his cabin.

The big room was covered in posters of Flight Frame designs, Skypirates logos and other miscellanea. On the desk beside his bed, there laid the only picture he had left of his family, before they all died of illness. Butch quietly picked up the picture and remarked "Don't worry about me I'll be fine. This mission shouldn't be too bad, after all I have a fine, good crew to work with."

Butch laid the picture down and grabbed out his holster from the drawer below and put it on before grabbing his personal handgun and putting it in. "Just in case. You gotta be safe." Butch left his cabin and went to the Flight Frame hangar, keeping his eye on Orion.

The redheaded man sighed, adjusting his spectacles as he withdrew his hand from the base of the leg of the silvery-blue warmachine - his machine. His Resonance told him that everything was in order, the Yukianesa's many armaments and accessories carefully equipped, from the Wing Bits fastened to the main thrusters and the deactivated dual cannons currently hooked to the unit's waist to the beam lance emitter fastened to its back, the energy whip sheathed in its left hip compartment, the shield hooked to its right wrist, and the mega beam cannon held in its limp left hand. All systems were in perfect condition, simply awaiting his command to spring to life and take to the battlefield.

Meriwether sighed once again. After nearly a lifetime of fighting, he felt vulnerable when he wasn't sitting behind the controls of a powered up Flight Frame laying waste to his adversaries. That wasn't to say that he only felt alive when he was upon the battlefield - far from it. The rush of adrenaline, the keening of his senses, and the absolute focus upon every aspect of both his own unit and those of his enemies always left him feeling drained. But at the same time, piloting was something he could do, and do well. If there was an obstacle standing in his way when he had absolute control of a machine easily capable of leveling a city if left unchecked, the solution was obvious. A quick pull of the trigger, and those who opposed his goals would be no more, allowing him to advance. But, having been raised as a pilot first and a Human being second, there were some difficulties when it came to solving problems without destroying everything in sight with a Flight Frame.

The young man sighed, adjusting his spectacles as he gazed down from the loading platform as it continued to slowly rise into the hangar bay of his new ship. He could see the others gathered by the foot of the ship, but was hardly in the mood to go and mingle if it would mean leaving his precious Flight Frame in someone else's hands. He had helped design this unit, had tested it thoroughly, and then, finally, had claimed it for his own. He wasn't about to hand it over, least of all when it was probably the only reason why he'd been allowed to join this crew at all. He couldn't let himself become irrelevant, which meant that allowing prying researchers to take glances into his frame's secrets before he had proven his usefulness was out of the question.

With these thoughts rushing through his head, the redheaded man thus did not notice for an instant that the platform had at last reached the level of the hangar, and, consequently, was taken completely by surprise when, with a sudden lurch, it stopped rising and began to move forward, sending the clumsy pilot stumbling backward and nearly toppling over the edge of the platform. Catching himself on the railing, he slumped backward and sighed once again, leaning far enough back to gaze from an inverted perspective at the hangar behind him. To his surprise, however, he realized he was not alone in the hangar as his platform at last came to a stop, finding himself face-to-upside-down-face with a strange person clad entirely in a flight suit, whose helmet covered their face completely.

"Oh. Good day," Meriwether said cheerfully as his glasses slid down over his forehead and clattered to the floor. "Would you be so kind as to fetch those for me?"

Sam walked distractedly to his cabin, eyes roaming the newly refurbished ship. Grinning, he rubbed the back of his neck, free hand opening the door to his room.

As soon as the door swung open smoothly, Sam caught a glimpse of a gray flash moving inside the cabin. A thin and tall man stood by the central table, waiting impassively with eyes hidden by a wraparound opaque visor.

“-Er, hello.” Sam stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “You’re the… Doctor, correct?”

The man drew a long, sharp painful breath and worked his jaw into a semblance of mobility. Bone cracked audibly. “Yessss. Soren Rosencreutz. There is-” Crackle. “- a matter to discuss, Captain Sam Pennington.”

“Are you feeling okay, Mister Rosencreutz?” Sam dropped his pack, standing a few paces away from the other man.

“I am not of your kind.” Manipulating the holographic display set into the table, Soren conjured a three-dimensional Vitruvian Man and adjusted the body structure, elongating limbs and extending bone structures. With a final touch, he added a pair of carnivore fangs to the diagram, then labeled the image, Homo sapiens vampiris.

“Oh.” Sam nodded, picking up the backpack once more to deposit heavily on the desk. With a smooth motion, he erased the hologram. “I assume you can take care of yourself, sir.”

“I have certain dietary requirements. Meat, human meat, as long as I am not able to procure these.” Soren offered the man two vials, one with a milky white emulsion and the other a faint green.

Sam took the vials, inspecting them. “And I assume you’re also almost out of these?”

“Not yet. I can synthesise them, given the ingredients. I only seek to make the situation clear. What does Lumin Polis hold?”

“What ingredients are required?” Sam handed the vials back, and began to unpack. Bits of paper and clothing met the desk and the floor as he tossed his spare clothing onto the unmade bed.

“Amino acids. The equipment is in my cabin. What is his chip?”

“He kidnapped a fairly well-to-do member of society. I assume he’s betting on using her life to keep his own.” Sam frowned at a book, and slipped it onto the shelf.

Soren made a soft, clicking sound. “I respect your reticence. May I take it we have an understanding?”

“We do. Keep me informed about your… needs. How many of the crew are aware, and would you prefer to keep it quiet?”

“Aug Infum, the droid. It will be better for discretion.” Soren finally smiled, a toothy gash opening in the lower half of his face. He held a cross on a necklace up, kissed it lightly as though in benediction. His breath smelled like raw meat. “My gratitude, Captain.”

Sam nodded, easy grin slipping onto his features. “No killing unless I give the clear, all right?”

“No killing,” repeated Soren. “There is a final thing…”

“Yes?” Sam stowed the now empty backpack underneath his mattress. “What is it?”

“Might I have your face?”

“I’m afraid I’m using it.” Sam smirked, walking towards the door.

“You misunderstand. A record of your face, for the medicae. I have the faces of the rest of the crew; I lack yours.”

Sam paused, and shrugged. “After we get this girl in the air.”

“As you say. Wake me in my coffin when you are ready. My kind- I do not keep awake continuously as you and yours.” Soren gave a half-bow.

Sam nodded back before opening the door to allow Soren out. “Tell me, who do you trust on the ship?”

“You and the droid have naught to gain by my death. I trust you both, the robot especially given our.. similar histories.”

“Fair enough. Have a nice sleep, Doctor.”

“To when we next meet.” Soren nodded and slipped out of the room.

Butch quietly sat around his hangar, keeping watch on Orion closely while also looking around the hangar and ship as a whole. As he scanned around, he could see fellow crew-mate Meriwether Crowe standing by his own Flight Frame arriving into the hangar, rather stumbling in.

Butch quietly smirked as he looked at Crowe pick himself back up, his glasses falling off as a figure clad in a flight suit stood before him.

Butch always had his reservations about Meriwether Crowe, between his mass murder of World Government Elites to his odd choice to approach the Guild about joining them. Butch was unsure on whether or not he or anyone else could really trust him. Maybe he did have a good reason to do all that killing or perhaps he has his own reasons for it. Either way Butch was sure the truth would come eventually, even if he would have to try and find it out himself.

As though drawn by the aroma wafting from the kitchen, Soren glided in noiselessly.

“Cook Miguel.”

The cook looked up from his cutting board, currently occupied by a handful of carrots that were being divided into progressively smaller chunks. “What can I do for you, Soren?”

“This is a travesty.” From within his jacket, the pale man withdrew a tinted bottle.

Miguel raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with it?”

Soren tipped the wine bottle upside down; not a single drop left the open neck. “It’s empty.”

“So grab another,” said Miguel with a shrug. “Or better yet, take this opportunity to free yourself from an oppressive dependency.”

“This dependency can oppress me any time,” Soren murmured, then raised his voice to its normal volume. “The stores are dry. This is a disaster.”

“Ah.” Miguel nodded. “Food supplies are low all around. It makes sense that there’d be a few empty shelves. We can try to restock at our first opportunity, but for the moment I don’t see how I can help you, unless you want to me to try brewing something on my own.” As an afterthought, he added, “Please don’t ask me to brew something on my own.”

“I would not mind aiding you.” Soren offered.

Miguel sighed. “If you’ve got the expertise, I guess. I’ve never let my stores ferment intentionally before. And I’m nervous about using up something that should be saved for the rest of the crew if we can’t restock soon enough.”

Soren pursed his lips, showing a glint of teeth. “We are in harbour, yet we are not restocking. We are skint, and we will only be able to gain money when we finish this bounty. How long can our stocks last?”

“A couple of months, if I leave people hungry. Half that time if we all eat well.”

“And if I eat once every month?”

Miguel rubbed his forehead. He’d already been worrying over the problem of keeping the crew fed before Soren showed up in his kitchen. The conversation was starting to give him a headache. “If I do my job right, we’ll have enough for your needs. Don’t do anything rash, okay?”

Soren made a clicking sound. “You will have enough. If you have surplus, then bootlegging would be gratefully appreciated.”

Miguel nodded. “Tell you what. Let’s pick this up after dinner. We’ll go over the inventory together and come up with a plan. All right?”

“Tonight shall be my last dinner for a while. My thanks, Cook Miguel.” And the lean man slipped out of the door.

Lucy grunted as she hopped down from her Chariot's maintenance platform, swatting at the sleeves of her flight suit. She'd made her resolution years ago to keep her piloting gear on whenever she was in public, but there were times when that promise made things significantly less comfortable than it should have. Doing her job wasn't easy in clothing as bulky and obscuring as hers, and the move to the Understanding's hangar had necessitated several extra hours of work and a long evening of showering and laundry afterwards. Still, it was comforting to know that her work for the day was done; at last, the flight frame was ready for its latest journey.

Off to the side, there was a faint clattering of glass against steel. Lucy turned instinctively- and promptly found herself staring straight at a very familiar face. An upside down face that was years older than the last time she'd seen it, admittedly, but the red hair and obnoxious grin were unmistakable. "Oh! Good day. Would you be so kind as to fetch those for me?"

Lucy spared the floor in front of her a quick glance- of course Meriwether would end up dropping his glasses every few seconds, the guy could barely stand up without tripping over his own feet- and before she remembered she was trying not to do anything that would associate herself with her old life, she said, "For the fiftieth time, Sunshine, get some freaking contacts."

"For the fiftieth time, Sunshine, get some freaking contacts."

Meriwether blinked. Then stared. Then blinked again, several times, looking for all the world as though he was staring at a ghost. Which, technically, he was, if he'd heard what this strange, masked pilot had just said correctly.

"I'm... sorry," He began, sounding quite baffled as he pushed himself gingerly back to an upright position, pivoting about rather wildly as he did so and nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, yet, with his usual clumsy grace, completely failing to notice that he'd almost knocked himself over as he leaned forward over the railing - more likely than not simply balancing himself against it to catch his fall and simply ending up coincidentally in a position he'd wanted to assume in the first place, since, having lost his spectacles, it would be difficult to scrutinize this unexpected comrade without doing so closely - taking a good, hard - and most importantly, right-side-up - look at the person across from him. "Did you just call me 'Sunshine?'" He asked confusedly, cocking his head to the left. Indeed, that was what it had sounded like to him. And, yet, of course, that couldn't have been the case. The only person who had ever called him by that nickname was dead, along with her entire family.

StupidstupidstupidstupidaaaaaaarghwhydidIevendothat, Lucy thought, trying desperately not to break something out of frustration. Okay. Okay. Calm down. Evidently I still have some past issues to work out or something. Figures. So he apparently recognizes me. Makes sense. No point in hiding things now, I guess? Might as well tell him... no, not now. Too public. Wait now, explanations later. He'd better be able to keep a secret now, though.

Sighing, Lucy picked up Meriwether's glasses and handed them back to their owner, flipping up her helmet's faceplate as she did so. "Okay," she whispered, "so that wasn't what I was planning to say, but whatever. Hi, Meriwether. I imagine you've got plenty of questions for me that I may or may not be willing to answer, but we are not discussing this now, okay? Suffice it to say I'm trying to keep a low profile for reasons you can probably guess, so if you want to talk, you'd better find somewhere we won't have anybody listening in on us." She closed her helmet again, then added, "Also, I'm called Lucy Pendragon now. If you even think about calling me Charlotte or anything, you get used as Chariot fuel. Got it?"

Butch looked upon Meriwether and the other person as the mysterious figure picked up Meriwether's glasses and passed it to him, flipping the helmet's faceplate in the process.

So that's Lucy Pendragon in the suit. Butch thought to himself. I heard she was a part of this crew though I was little unsure. Still, doesn't hurt if I approach the two, we are going to be working together as Flight Frame pilots. If I'm gonna make any progress here I may as well start with them.

Butch quietly walked up to both Meriwether and Lucy and started speaking "Why hello there, I'm one of your fellow Flight Frame pilots on this ship. I'm Butch Advent and yes that's my real name *chuckles* you must be Meriwether Crowe and Lucy Pendragon. Pleasure to meet you two."