The burly man, his face rugged and scarred, muttered in a low, gruff voice, “Boss, could they have made a mistake?”
“How should I know?” The one-eyed leader leaned back lazily, his boot propped up on the armrest of his chair. A plume of smoke curled from the cigar he held, the rich aroma of premium, naturally grown tobacco filling the air. This wasn’t the cheap kind sold for a few hundred credits—it was a true artisan’s craft.
“Boss, something’s not right!” The voice came from a gaunt, wiry man standing beside the leader. His shifty eyes darted around the room, his skeletal frame giving him the appearance of a cunning schemer.
The one-eyed leader cracked open an eye, still exhaling smoke leisurely. “What do you mean by that?”
“Think about it,” the wiry man whispered. “We haven’t heard from our contact inside for six days now. That’s not a good sign. And we’ve been waiting here too long. If everything was going as planned, they should’ve arrived already.”
The leader nodded slowly, his face thoughtful. “You’ve got a point. So, what now? Are you saying we should return the advance payment?” He grimaced at the thought, visibly pained.
“Ha!” The wiry man smirked. “Boss, that’s nothing to worry about. That guy won’t dare spill a word of this. He’s more afraid of exposure than we are. If this leaks, our reputation will take a hit, but he’d be ruined. There’s no way we’re giving that money back!”
The one-eyed leader burst out laughing, clapping the wiry man on the back. “You’re sharp as ever! Guess that means we’re off the hook.”
The hulking man interjected, his voice filled with unease. “Boss, leaving empty-handed feels unlucky. The crew’s bound to complain.”
The leader scratched his chin thoughtfully. “You’re right. Heading back with nothing won’t sit well.”
Just then, a younger lackey burst into the room, panting heavily and wide-eyed with excitement. “Boss! We’ve spotted a big score up ahead. A fat one!”
The leader’s face lit up with a wide grin. “Ha! Seems like fortune favours the bold. Tell the crew to get ready!”
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Meanwhile, in a small, dimly lit cabin, Ash sat quietly with his two companions, Ethan and Zwei.
Ethan paced nervously near the door, glancing over his shoulder every so often. “What now? Do you think they’re planning to keep us locked up? And why the guards? We’re not prisoners!”
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Zwei, standing stoically by his young master’s side, offered a reassuring smile. “Master Ethan, there’s no need to worry. They likely suspect something about our identities. Without confirmation, they won’t harm us.”
Ash, seated in a corner, ignored their exchange entirely. His eyes were closed, conserving energy. Despite his relaxed appearance, every fibre of his being was alert, ready to spring into action. The guards stationed outside were of no concern to him; he was confident they posed no threat.
Ash’s mind wandered as he considered the frailty of the people he’d encountered. Strange... Their bodies seem so fragile. A slightly stronger impact might shatter them completely. Don’t they realise that the body is the foundation of everything?
Ethan glanced at Ash, his admiration tempered by curiosity. “Who is he really? Someone that calm in the face of danger must have an extraordinary past.”
Outside the door, the two guards—both senior mech pilots—stood at attention. Though they believed guarding three youths was beneath them, the orders from their captain left no room for debate.
Suddenly, their earpieces buzzed with urgent instructions. Their faces paled as they exchanged glances. One of them opened the door and addressed the trio seriously, “Do not leave this room. Your safety cannot be guaranteed otherwise.”
Zwei stepped forward anxiously. “What’s happening?”
The guard hesitated before replying, “We’re under attack by space pirates. The Crimson Eagles.”
The colour drained from both Ethan and Zwei’s faces. “The Crimson Eagles?!” they exclaimed in unison, their voices trembling with fear.
The guard nodded grimly. “We must fight. Rest assured, we’ll give it everything we’ve got.” His words carried a resolute finality, as though he were prepared to die for his mission.
Without further delay, the guards left, leaving the three alone.
“The Crimson Eagles? How is that possible?” Zwei murmured, his voice laced with despair. Ethan, too, appeared shell-shocked, his composure utterly shattered. Only Ash remained unfazed, his expression as calm as ever.
“What are the Crimson Eagles?” Ash asked, curiosity piqued by his companions’ terror.
Ethan and Zwei stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. “Are you serious? You don’t know who they are?”
“How powerful can they be?” Ash pressed.
Ethan nearly fainted. “How can someone ask such a ridiculous question?!”
Zwei, though equally stunned, managed to explain, “The Crimson Eagles are one of the most infamous pirate factions. They’re incredibly powerful and far more brutal than most. Anyone captured by them is as good as dead.”
Ash tilted his head, mulling over this information. “So, they’ll definitely board this ship?”
Zwei nodded grimly. “Without a doubt.”
Ash rose abruptly, startling the other two.
“What are you doing?!” Ethan shouted, panic evident in his voice. “Don’t be reckless! They’re killers!” Then he paused, realising that Ash himself might well be a killer too.
“I need a mech,” Ash said evenly. “Where can I find one?”
Zwei hesitated before replying, “In the lower deck’s storage bay. Most large convoys keep spare mechs for emergencies.”
“Good,” Ash said, his eyes gleaming with a fierce determination. “Show me the way.”
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Reaching the storage bay, Ash found the entrance locked. There was no time to waste finding someone with the access code.
Taking a deep breath, Ash’s chest expanded like a bellows, his muscles heating up with an almost volcanic intensity. He bent his knees slightly, his entire body coiled like a drawn bow.
With a roar, he unleashed a devastating punch at the centre of the metal door.