[January 350th, GPY 3. Jude, Ganymede. 1412. UGT]
As with any shift, Zoltan Burns sat behind the bar of Clyde's, absently listening to the perpetual shuffling of feet and the occasional outburst or hushed conversation within the muted ambiance as his hands gracefully moved around him, mixing and pouring and distributing drinks to the still somewhat tame crowd while the oppressive bass from the music battered away at his chest.
Unlike any other shift however, Zoltan's eyes primarily remained on or near the vicinity of the set of large screens mounted into the ceilings above the dance floors, watching both Jordan's duel, and for whomever was responsible for diligently reprogramming the feeds.
Jordan was just about to venture into a Special Zone when Zoltan looked away for the first time, only to gaze back a few minutes later and see the same old video that the regulars had surely seen ten-thousand times by now. After changing the feed back, a few uneventful minutes passed before Jordan engaged and quickly dispatched his first opponent, gaining a few turning heads from the dance crowd and bar that became audibly disappointed whenever the feed switched channels again. Switching back again brought Zoltan and the other onlookers right in the middle of a brawl, centered on Jordan.
After being 'allowed' to watch the entirety of the conflict and seeing Jordan retreat somewhere outside of the emplaced cameras and observation satellite's line of sight, the feed changed again. Given the circumstances, Zoltan let the other party have their way and instead, kept his eye own his own augmented screen while he tended drinks and exchanged periodic conversation with Tobias.
It wasn't until nearly three quarters of the way through Zoltan's shift that Jordan finally emerged from his hiding place, appearing like a blur over the ice walls beyond the camera's line of sight, headed on an intercept course towards another combatant that was scaling the crater wall. Just before the outcome of that engagement was resolved, the feed cut out for a final time; just as Zoltan began to get swamped with orders.
By the time he'd returned the feed, Jordan was casually standing before a relatively towering figure, its lean frame doused in shined plates of armor that all but demanded the attention of everyone within Zoltan's line of sight. As it moved in a way that made it apparent dialogue was being exchanged between them and the Astros, their name and title became augmented above them for all the viewers inside to see.
[Field Marshal Quinn Law]
With the need to patrol the feeds now gone, Zoltan focused the newly freed part of his attention to nearly half the people surrounding the bars and dance floors around him, collectively standing or sitting in place with their mouths agape as they stared at the screens above like minnows awaiting food.
Whether as a result of curiosity of their distracted peers, or the subtle flashes of blues, golds and silvers flashing on-screen, more and more people turned their attention to Jordan's campaign, until the very ambiance in the bar had noticeably shifted into an unsettlingly tense silence.
No music, sloshing of drinks, conversation or comments could be heard from where Zoltan stood. Even the oppressive bass that once battered away at his chest seemed to have been cut off entirely, amplifying the occasional gasp or awed huff of breath sprouting up from around the crowd.
Once Jordan climbed on top of his opponent and began hacking away at their shoulders and sides, subtle yelps, cheers and 'holy shit's' began to sprout amongst the crowd at ever increasing intervals until the collective noise rose to an intensity that matched the prior music.
As the knight's flailings steadily weakened and eventually ceased entirely, the rise of excitement died down faster than it rose and was quickly replaced with a dense aura of disbelief that resided in an eerie silence. A cloud of denial, that seemed to be concentrated by the vibrant words blooming in and out of view on-screen before their very eyes.
He knew for sure he'd never seen something like it, but looking around, Zoltan was certain the rest of the crowd had personally never witnessed such a feat being accomplished by anyone in the lower ranks. Much less a rookie.
"He just killed a fucking Field Marshal." Someone muttered from somewhere in the crowd, piercing the stunned silence that'd spread throughout the bar.
"A rookie killed a Field Marshal!" Another one laughed in despairing disbelief. Followed by a sarcastic retort from someone else on the far side of the room. "You don't even know what that is!"
"No one here knows," Zoltan said without a second thought, pulling everyone's attention from the screens, over to himself. "Judging from those perks however." He nodded towards the ceiling. "I'd say it's quite high up the ladder." Despite his words being blatantly obvious, many people in the crowd averted their gaze down, upwards or away as they contemplated his words like they held deeper meaning. "Also." Zoltan continued, louder this time so those in a wider radius around him; and in particular the other tenders, could hear him. "I quit."
Without another word, Zoltan gently set down the cup he was drying off and tossed aside his napkin with a jerk of the neck towards Tobias before weaving through the still-sleeping crowd towards the doors.
***
With what felt like a bolt of lightning, Jordan snapped awake from his slumber and immediately felt a jarring wave of panic wash over him as the light of the unfamiliar room around him fell into his eyes.
Nostalgia clawed at his mind, all but reassuring it of the familiar location as he looked around at the vibrantly grained oversized desks and cabinets emplaced within the space beneath the sets of wall-mounted fish tanks, filled with magnificent koi, large suckerfish and even a few crustaceans, idly roaming about their enclosure.
Still, the peculiarities of the space- the boarded floors, the larger auto surgeon, looming above him, and the priorly unseen trinkets and trophies scattered throughout the room made it more than apparent to Jordan that something in the space; about his situation, felt off. Strange, in a way that he couldn't explain.
Moreso, the more immediate difference to his other returns to Choece from campaigning was that Jordan found himself fully dressed in his vac suit and instead of postoperative fatigue, he was plagued by an army of aches and bruises that individually reminded him of the lengthy duel versus Law.
Without warning, the hydraulics of the doors hissed loudly before a stout, porkish man with a long, whisker-like mustache and white coat waddled through and settled behind the desk, wearing a starkly mixed expression of admiration and dissatisfaction that shifted almost randomly along the spectrum with the passing seconds.
"Congratulations!" Randy finally exclaimed, tossing a pill bottle towards Jordan that landed on the bed at his legs with a soft thud.
Jordan cursed internally and groaned aloud as he raked the bottle with his feet and fought to sit upright through the pain to grab the bottle. Painkillers. "For what?" Jordan groaned, wincing as he fell backward onto the reclined bed.
"Check your awards and find out for yourself." Randy growled out a warm, amusing chuckle before reclining in his seat to intently watch Jordan's reactions.
After popping three of the pills and stuffing the bottle in his vest pocket, Jordan turned his attention away from Randy to access his personal network and assess his most recent notifications.
[Jordan Astros Log: January 350th, GPY 3. 1306. UGT.]
[Merit: 905.]
...
[Comms Request Sent- 1347. UGT.]
[Comms Request Accepted- 1347. UGT.]
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...
[January 350th, GPY 3. 1412. UGT.]
[You have been brutalized: - 150 points.]
[Merit: 755.]
[Field Marshal Quinn Law, Slain: Saturnian Knight Bonus- 2.5x multiplier. +500 points.]
[Perk Awarded: Outclassed IV- 1000% bonus to awards. +5000 points.]
[Merit: 5,755.]
[Promotion to D-Rank: Granted.]
[Rank: D- 5th Tier.]
[Migration to Mid-levels: Authorized.]
[Rank Associated Grants: Approved.]
...
[January 350th, GPY 3. 1431. UGT.]
[You have been knocked out. - 25 points.]
[Merit: 5730.]
…
[2 Unseen Messages.]
Dismissing his logs, Jordan quickly surveyed the grants associated with his promotion and was immediately shocked by the sheer ambiguity of the 'restrictions' on the first item- effectively, a license that'd allow him to install nonlethal hardware into his prosthetics. With no further explanations, it was simply up to a matter of creativity of find a loophole through the restriction. After all, screwdrivers could be fashioned into the fingertips, and they'd still function perfectly fine as claws.
The next reward was a grant that Jordan more or less expected. In addition to moving into the mid-levels, he was granted a one or two bedroom house, that he could completely customize and have constructed in any habitat of his choosing, so long that there was no larger than 185 square meters of living space.
Much like the last, the next reward was something Jordan fully anticipated, but found himself no less excited for: License to operate and own land vehicles, and a grant for a single, fully customizable land vehicle of any type of his choosing, to be manufactured either in-habitat, or near the poles of Ganymede.
With both his residential and locomotion benefits, new properties or assets were able to be acquired through either theft or purchase. Allowing for himself; or any other Galilean to own a fleet of vehicles or a string of residential properties if they so wished.
With such acknowledgments, Jordan skimmed through the obligatory bump ups in the quality of every good and service offered within the sphere of the Galilean Powers before blinking away his systems and inquisitively turning to Randy to ask. "What are tiers?"
"Bah." He waved his hand dismissively. "Petty distinguishments between those of the same rank, meant to boost fragile egos and rekindle tepid hearts."
'Someone sounds jaded.' Jordan snorted as he wheeled his feet onto the floor. "Alright. Well-"
With a shocking display of speed, Randy sprang up from his chair with his hand outstretched in a patient gesture. "Not so fast." He laughed. "You're a D-Ranker now. Which means an automatic upgrade to your sensory suite. And, if you want anymore upgrades, better tell me now."
"They'll have to be constructed first." Jordan phlegmatically replied as reclined back into his seat. "I'll let you know when I have them."
"Your own designs, huh?" Randy condescendingly laughed before turning to trigger the machine.
Jordan noted the lack of the machine's need for loading loading before the main arm detached from the wall and skated along its rails to menacingly loom above Jordan's head, causing the more traumatic parts of Jordan's memory to resurface and drive his mind into the beginnings of a frenzy.
As the thrashing began, a soft, warning tone emitted from the bed beneath him before the seamless, crescent arm unsealed; revealing a long, needle-armed finger for a split second before it shot straight down into Jordan's neck, instantly putting him to sleep.
***
[January 350th, GPY 3. Bronio, Ganymede. 1716. UGT.]
The moment Jordan waddled back in the waiting room, weary now from both postoperative fatigue and anesthesia, Gelos sprang from his seat and sprinted over to Jordan to follow him outside, excitedly yammering away with congratulations and continued explanations of his earlier rescue and inquiries of their plans and the whereabouts of the quasi-companions they'd made along the way. On and on, as if he'd never stopped when they'd parted ways in the safe zone.
Gelos finally stopped chattering to pause mid-stride and cant his body over towards Jordan while they walked. "You okay?" Gelos finally stopped chattering.
"I got a message from my brother, Arthur." Jordan sighed, raising his arms put air quotes around his words. "Congratulations on officially becoming the Knight Slayer, Jordan. I'll see you at the top." He let out a loud snort to make his detest more than evident to even the densest person. Causing Gelos to frown in confusion from the lack of context. "For some reason, it sounds sleazy." Jordan spat.
"Ah. Okaay." Gelos nodded slowly, turning away to eye something or someone in the distance.
"I also got a message from Fred." Jordan continued. "Said he's not coming."
"Damn." Gelos sighed. "That's unfortunate."
"Yeah, it'd be wise to have a med-tech." Jordan returned the sigh. "But it is what it is. We'll find someone else."
"Eventually." Gelos nodded.
The two fell into a companionable silence as they continued down the avenue towards the parked sedan Gelos had called.
"Well." Gelos muttered as he settled into the seat. "I only need a few hundred points before I rank up, so I'm off to campaign. I'm assuming you'll be exploring your new benefits?"
"After I see you to the surface, sure." Jordan shrugged. For it was only polite to return the courtesy Gelos had shown time and time again.
"Nah." Gelos lazily shook his head as the cars acceleration and lane switching pivoted his body around in his seat. "To the hangars is fine."
"If you say so." Jordan snorted.
Surely enough, Jordan idly watched from his floating place in the hangar as Gelos drifted into the shuttle and undocked to descend to the surface. After he'd watched the craft recede to a glimmering pixel before the grayed surface, Jordan picked an empty spot in the cavernous space to lazily drift about and dive into the customization of his new claims.
By far, the biggest change to Jordan's lifestyle was the fact that he'd won Law's challenge, and thus saw no need to continue living within the residential drum of Choece. He only came to Ganymede to experience campaign after all, an experience he'll surely not forget for the rest of his lifetimes.
Despite the assured delay of his homes construction, Jordan took his time searching and researching the various nets covering the different planets to design a home that'd both fit his tastes, and make the most out of the space given to him. Once satisfied with the loophole he'd exploited, Jordan accessed his personal archives to pull the implants and arms he'd designed and redesigned throughout his childhood to tweak them once again; along with the weapons he'd designed in Arthur's tutelage, before encrypting and transmitting the designs over to New Bran to be constructed in his father's manufacturing bays and shipped back to his apartment in Bronio.
Finally, there was the last award associated with his promotion- Jordan's first vehicle.
The easy part.
From his experiences exploring Choece with Gelos and the others, Jordan already knew exactly what he wanted. Reducing the work involved to choosing a base design and toiling over the more aesthetic aspects such as the frame structure and color scheme.
After finalizing the design of his ride and queuing the construction in the local manufacturing bays, Jordan left the hangar and opted to wander about the lower-levels of Choece for what could possibly be the last time.
It took less than half a day of Jordan exploring, sleeping or relaxing, for Gelos to notify Jordan of his return from campaign by cheekily appearing from practically nowhere in the yards outside of their apartments; practically unscathed. Unsurprisingly to Jordan, the moment their obligatory greetings and congratulations had been issued, the former Martian immediately opened up with inquiries about the near future.
Without a word, Jordan rose the ground to trot over to the garages to retrieve his bike while sending invites to Zoltan and Tobias to meet them for a celebratory dinner.
***
The last restaurant was a small shack in the middle of the lower-levels plains that overlooked a large winding river. Only being large enough for an actual kitchen filled with people and an ordering console, the patrons were seated on taut blankets or around shaded tables that gave majestic sights to the small, colorful birds swimming and flying around over the water.
With the name Rhonda's Bank, the place specialized in something called 'soul food.' A cuisine filled with fried, succulent, fattening foods like fried and smoked meats, macaroni and cheese, mashed sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows and baked to perfection and an assortment of desserts.
"So." Jordan belched after gorging himself, beckoning the wandering eyes of his friends to him. "Fred declined Jordan's offer, but if you two want to join me, then you need to get promoted as fast as possible. I have no intention of staying here any longer than I need to, and it'll take roughly a period for everyone to have their new toys fabricated and installed; and that's being generous." He snorted, and started to continue, before abruptly swallowing his words to point a warnful finger towards Gelos. "Don't. Say. Anything." Turning back to the other two, Jordan continued as if he'd never interrupted himself. "Once we have our things, I plan on taking a detour to the Sphere of Ananke for the next stage of our upgrades."
'Hopefully.' Jordan sighed to himself.
"After that." Jordan continued, despite the confused gazes being thrown at him in response to his cryptic explanation. "The campaign zones on Europa should be reopened. We'll move into the mid-levels of Neo Europe and go from there.
Excepting the confusion shown earlier, both Zoltan and Tobias blinked blankly back at Jordan for a few seconds after his explanation, while Gelos excitedly and attentively listened to every detail spewing from Jordan's mouth.
"As long as I can open my bar, I don't care." Zoltan dismissively shrugged before turning away, muttering under his breath. "I'm sure you'll like a place to drink at."
Tobias only raised his hands at head height, shoulder width, in a sort of welcoming shrug. "Consider me the collective's mechanic." He grinned.
Jordan nodded to himself before beginning to voice his acknowledgments and was quickly interrupted by a loud ping echoing in his ears, accompanied with a scroll of text skimming across the top of his line of sight, notifying Jordan that his orders are under construction and giving him a delivery ETA of just over four days.
Feeling a particular twinge of excitement welling through his body, Jordan gazed looked up to those around him; their gazes now scattered across their surroundings, as they picked at the scraps of food before them. "In fact, let's make it two periods, Jordan said, grinning wide. "We're gonna need to learn how to fly."