A broad office space had a reflective purple alloy flooring that complimented the matching gold-plated ceiling above it. The white carpet stretching from the large steel doors from the exit had two rivers of purple molten liquid on both its sides. Liquid mercury floated from the swirling pools only to drop back down in a few seconds.

The carpet then stretched upward to a black slim-glass desk with three yellow holographic screens scanning through different data modules at the top of the stairs. A man wearing an all-white blazer having neon-gold outlines that blinked ever so often sat with a grin in front of the charts, watching them grow in size and number.

His skin was ashen white, while his hair, despite its also colorless disproportion, inched into an icy-blue texture at the ends giving it a spiked appearance while pushed back. His smirk then fades as he hears a click at the door, followed by it swinging open with another man rushing in.

“… Crantum! Crantum! Crantum! What’re we going to do Arnza? Did you hear the news!”

He stops a few feet in front of the desk while pacing side to side. His skin was a dark-gray pigment with all three of his bluish eyes, two diagonal and one up above in the middle, squinted with anxiousness. He also wore an all-white mesh suit, but his was covered by a black lab coat etched with white neon lines in the inner layers.

Arnza stands from his chair and rubs back his icy-spiked locks. “Niuq’tar, what is the matter, my friend? Did one of your experiments escape again?"

Niuq’tar turns around while throwing both his hands into the air. “T-That was a one time thing! And no, one of them did not escape! I’m talking about the Patroller!”

Arnza’s crimson pupils widen as he steps from behind his desk. “What… Did you just say? And make no mistake.”

Niuq’tar stops pacing, almost bumping into Arnza’s tall and robust stature.

“I-I… It’s no mistake, sir. A few hours ago, there was confirmation by one of our surveillance drones that a Patroller was roaming District 9. They were then spotted right in front of our building! T-The feds... They're onto us!”

Arnza turns around, locking both his hands behind his back with a click of his teeth. “What happened to Patroller Thresu? Wasn’t he issued this quadrant on behalf of the Federation?”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Thresu… H-he died some few months ago, sir.” Niuq’tar discloses. “A mercenary took his head, sold it on the Tiecoon One-Moon Market not too long ago… It was confirmed by the feds as well.”

Arnza leans his head to the side, creating a set of cracks with a click of his teeth. “Shit. And we paid him off quite a fortune to keep his mouth shut and get us clearance through the Abismo Void.”

He then places a hand on the opaque wall in front of him. In a set of black ripples, it then reveals a rainbow-neon flashing light show in a party atmosphere, with people dancing and drinking in a wide space below.

“Well, if they’re here, they are most likely here to speak with us. Fetch someone to go and bring them to me.” Arnza commands.

“… If you don’t mind, I can go and get em’. I don’t mind havin’ to be forceful either.”

Arnza and Niuq’tar look to the middle of the rug. A female Shol'o with brown skin and long black locks walks toward them while stretching her arms into the air.

Her eyes were wide and curved with long eyelashes but couldn't hide the pearly-white pupils that gleam with mischief. Her black boots had white metal straps wrapped around them, and her matching gloves that covered her entire lower hand except for her fingers and knuckles. Below a long black parka with a furred brim that hid her mouth was a black semi-translucent shirt covering her bosom and short monochrome booty shorts that appealed to her long chestnut-colored legs.

She rests her hands atop her two messily-swirled black hairballs, making a single lock of hair drop in front of her eye.

“Whaddaya say bossman? Want me to go looking for her? I promise not to make to much of a mess.”

Niuq’tar scoffs with a disapproving nod. “Please reconsider sir, for she’s just a brute without a chain. If we want to make the most of this situation we must fancy her or we’ll just run her off…”

A bellowing screech makes him look to the side, with his lab-coat flapping in his head’s direction. The Shol'o, now leaning on his shoulder, grins in contrast to his nervous frown.

“You just stick to your job and I’ll stick to mine. I’m the Head of Security for Stravos at this branch, and if I see something that needs attending to, I’ll do it personally.”

Arnza snaps his fingers, causing them both to look to this back.

“Yazyona, that’s an excellent proposition. You’ll scour the floor and see that she gets here promptly. Use any methods you need, as I want to make our mission here at Stravos very clear to newcomers.”

Yazyona slaps Niuq’tar’s back at the news, making him stumble forward while glaring back at her.

“Excellent! I’ll order a few guards on the floor and keep an eye out for em’. They usually where some flashy badge, right? Don’t worry, we’ll get them here in a jiff!”

In another screech, she disappears from sight except for a trail of wind and opened door at the front of the room.

Niuq’tar bows his head toward Arnza then steps down the staircase with a gulp.

“We’re… We’re ploofed…”