A hivemind of crime and corruption, Amarill Town is a town built out of the very scrap the inhabitants scavenge for. Established during a civil war by a rebellion, when the Eukaronic military took over the city - they decided to keep it, giving travellers a place to stay. Poverty runs high, and many criminals hide here to disappear.
Sat in a rundown pub booth on the outskirts of Amarill Town, a poncho'd man with a wide-brimmed hat sipped their drink through a small mouthpiece on their mask. Under their poncho was a burnt overcoat from recent battle and a dyed-black cuirass of Cirumite fibre. Parked outside was a small corvette, still covered with the orange dust of Mars - slowly being caked with the purple sand of Eukaron.
Rakoji sighed, grabbing at the back of his overcoat and looking at the singed edges and the small holes further up the coat. He groaned, the coat having cost one of his early pay checks.
After his battle in the Envia Dome, Rakoji had taken to hiding away from the galaxy until he could figure out what to do next. With a giant such as White-Eye now on his case, he has to tread much more cautiously. Eukaron was a staunch isolationist with strict entry laws, making it safe for a regular like him.
The doors to the pub would open - a blaze of purple glistening sand blowing halfway through the room. A figure in a thick robe entered soon afterwards. Their cloak was a natural black, however days of walking the desert has dyed almost the entirety into a pale purple.
They wore thick goggles to keep the sand out of their eyes, and a balaclava to keep their nose and mouth to keep them safe as well. Slung on their back - a spear of blue wood and purple metal hung idly, tipped with dried blood of battles long fought.
Rakoji looked at the figure from the corner of the room in his booth.
The figure looked right back - as if trying to stare into his very soul.
"..." Rakoji finished his drink - closing the mouthpiece with a quick button press and adjusting his Poncho to fit properly, walking outside quickly after.
*A small fence blocked the pub from the debris that was blown in sandstorms. Around 200m away, they could see the entrance to the town proper. Three ships were parked to the right - Rakoji's being the largest, but the most defended.
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Rakoji pressed a button, boarding his ship and taking off - deciding that it was too dangerous to be far away from the law. After all, he would've left the Envia Dome in much-worse condition if not for the police nearby.
Flying around 500m off the ground, Rakoji sighed, enabling autopilot and holding his face for a second.
"What did I even do.. Nextellar I can handle, but now White Eye?" He'd mutter to himself, pulling his face out and getting out of his chair - walking out of the cockpi-
The cloaked figure stood in the middle of the hallway, looking directly at Rakoji - the goggles now gone.
"WH--" Rakoji would manifest HYPERVOLVER, aiming at the cloaked figure and playing a cocking noise with the press of a button - obviously it didn't actually have to.
"Rakoji Kovac. Born on Jirub, incarcerated on Earth." The cloaked figure spoke, showcasing their large amount of knowledge - yet still standing perfectly still.
"Who are you? What do you want!? I don't appreciate random hobo's boarding my ship!"
“The guild has taken notice of your past actions, and have decided to reveal ourselves to you by popular vote.”
“...What?” Rakoji was confused. The guild? He wasn’t part of any mercenary guild. He was a loner.
"You are injured, alone and on-the-run. But more importantly, you have done a terrible atrocity in your past - the killing of a Jirubian MEP in an armed robbery seven years ago. This has had dire effects on your planet, your family, your friends and your life. Given your current circumstances, we would like to offer you an accord. An atonement for your crimes, but more importantly - an escape from your problems."
Pondering for a moment, Rakoji lowered his pistol - looking at the figure before demanifesting it. "Who are you to judge my actions? I'm the leader of my own life, and you do not dictate it!"
The cloaked figure pondered for a moment. "Your harsh words mean nothing; however, your actions do. And your current actions have shown to me that you are not so bothered by my words. If my observations are correct, then you will continue down the auto mapped route on your ship towards the Immigration Sector of the Imperial Conurbation. You will go to Shyrik Monastery and ask to speak to 'Father Agios'. He will instruct you further. "On behalf of those on the Eukaron Cabal - we offer you an invitation to the Pilgrims of Promethic."
The cloaked figure would wave their hand - a purple charm appearing over their body before they melted into Soul-Energy, before dissipating completely and fading away.
"...Who the hell even are they?" He muttered to himself - looking at where the cloaked figure once stood.
"Why me? First an assassination attempt... now some... cult!?" He'd kick a loose bolt in his floor, hearing something break underneath him.
.:. Well, I am now wanted by one of the biggest organisations in the galaxy... Maybe I should hear them out... .:.
Rakoji sighed, looking at the autopilot as it took him towards the Conurbation.
"Well.. I suppose they already decided for me."