The walls of the expansive ship were off-white and chipped, making it look like slightly moldy cheese of some sort. Nightraider walked on my left and Deathslinger brought up my right as we moved towards the armory.

My relationship with Nightraider had grown immensely over the years. I wouldn't say she didn't hate me anymore, but she definitely didn't hate me as much as she used to. When we were younger, she would constantly jumped me and beat me to a pulp for reasons still unknown to me. Now, I don't know what to call our relationship. Friends? Not quite, but maybe someday.

However, my relationship with Deathslinger went back many years. He was my closest friend back when we lived on a real planet. He always had my back, basically read my mind in uncomfortable situations, and jumped in when I made a fool of myself, which was more often than not.

The moldy-cheese walls seemed to be pressing on my, the stale, cold, reused air getting stuck in my lungs, my finger rhythmically tapping my left. My eyes could not find anything to focus on and they darted along the walls, my brain counting every crack in the years-old paint. I felt eyes staring at me on the back of my head but knew, just as always, that if I looked back, nothing would be there. I knew someone was always watching, but sometimes it felt like more than just a security camera.

Noticing my nervous tendencies, Deathslinger asked the first most random question that came to his brain which happened to be, "Have you ever realized how weird you name is, Bats?" Immediately, his question broke through my tedious counting and tapping, my anxious habits temporarily broken,

Still, I gave my friend a withering look and a simple "yes".

"Did it seriously take you this long to ask him that question?" Nightraider asked in her naturally hoarse voice, cocking an eyebrow, "He's had that name for years now, and you're only asking that now? You're a fool, Deathslinger." Sometimes she went into her old ways of rudeness.

"Wow," Deathslinger laughed like someone had just stolen his favorite food in front of him -- sarcastic and humorless. And, being the king of fast comebacks, replied, "This coming from you? You know, the one and only Nightraider who has the softest heart for our dear Fireclaw? I mean, if that's not foolishness, I don't know what is."

"Don't even get me started," Nightraider threatened.

"What? Get you started on how much you love him, or get started on how bad of an idea it was?" I asked, nudging her playfully with my arm, a smirk on my face.

She gave an exasperated sigh and threw her hands in the air. "I do not love him."

"Sounds to me like you're in denial," Deathslinger teased, leaning into her personal space. A sappy smile played on his lips and she gave him a shove.

I laughed as her trademark death glare (No seriously. Trademarked) encased her face. Her natural tattoos glowed vibrantly and her dark gray skin got two shades darker. With long white hair cascading over her shoulders and light blue eyes to go with her skin, she gave off a cold demeanor. Nightraider was the personification of a winter storm.

Giving us each a once over, the winter storm came to a conclusion. "You guys aren't worth my time. I don't get paid enough to act like your friend. Bye, boys." It was a common parting between her and us.

As she was walking away, playing my part, I yelled after Nightraider, "You don't get paid!"

"Exactly!" She gave us a salut and fell away, running up to a suddenly appearing Fireclaw. She looked over her shoulder at us, smirked, and shot a finger gun. Deathslinger and I pretended to get shot and fell back against the wall, choking or grimacing in imaginary pain.

And although I continued to laugh, my tapping recommenced.

"Landing in three minutes," a robotic voice said over the intercom. In the back of my mind, I was aware of it counting down the minutes until chaos.

With my heart rate peaking, I glanced at Deathslinger, counting every sharp point to his natural tattoos that I could as a way to calm myself. "Can I ask a hypothetical question?"

"Sure thing," Deathslinger responded, digging into his pant pocket and popping a dried up piece of meat in his mouth. He chewed the hard piece of meat around eighty times before finally swallowing. I know because that's how long it took me to finally answer.

"What if we deserted?" I finally burst out.

"You're joking." He stared at me, his next bite of rock hard jerky half way to his mouth.

"Do you know what 'hypothetical' means?" I deadpanned.

"Sure I do, but--"

"Great. Then just answer the question."

He sighed, running a pudgy hand down his face. Deathslinger's hair was just long enough to pull back into a small pony tail after braiding it at the top of his head and he had very pale brown eyes. Like dead grass or something like that. He was half a foot shorter than me, still pretty tall, and was meaty, with big hands and arms.

"I would say that you would be an idiot to try it, Bats. You'd probably die. So, therefore, I know it's not hypothetical because you really are an idiot," he said pointedly, He always did this, no matter what I talked about. Everything becomes my fault and my problem.

"You're the one to talk," I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Whatever, forget I asked."

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Eight years ago, Gambit died, He was one of us, one of the Electis stolen from our home planet and taken a board a ship. For those who have working moral compasses, that compass might break in our presence, and Gambit saw that. He took a risk, very surprising given his name, and while we raided one of the planets, he hid there instead of going on the ship with us, Captain gave him false hope, boarding the spaceship and flying away from the world, only to circle back and blow it to smithereens. Eight years ago, Gambit took the risk every single one of us wanted to take, and he died for it. Now, few of us even think about deserting.

We walked in silence for the rest of the way, reaching the armory. I shook my head clear of thoughts on deserting and plastered a smile on my face. The armory was large, benches separated the room into three different sections. The rusty walls were lined with personalized chests, on which were written the name of its owner Mine, located on the west wall said Batcatcher in young, messy handwriting. When we were given our names based on our best accomplishment, we were given a chest as well in which to keep our valuables.

I walked over to my chest and opened it, using my unique twelve number code. Inside, there was... piranha in water, Because Electis came from a water based planet, our piranhas find us quite tasty. I grimaced and grabbed the fish by its slimy tail, holding it up to everyone in the room.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Who did it this time?" I demanded, not amused in the least.

Okay, so yeah. My code wasn't that unique. It'd been the same one since I was twelve, back when I got my name. And when I was thirteen, Brainsucker figured it out. Ever since, everybody stuck something in the chest to annoy me. I was definitely the easiest to bully.

Once, there was an electric eel, another time a pot of putty (my hand was stuck in there for more than a quarter of an hour). They probably didn't realize, but most of the feeling in my left hand is gone because of all the pranks, so much so that I didn't even notice the fish gnawing on my pinky.

Nightraider looked over her shoulder and gave me a sly smile. She was crouched over her chest two away from mine and said, "Oh, I dunno. Who hates you the most out of everyone here? Oh, right. I forgot, that would be me."

"Hey, at least you forgot for a while That's progress. But still, where are my clothes?" I asked, dropping the piranha to the floor and watching as it flopped and died on the dry ground.

"On your back?" Probably the least clever of all her comebacks and yet everyone still laughed. Probably trying to ease the tension in the room.

Often, before missions like these, we had to relax and do that , to make each other laugh, So I allowed it, if not with a slight roll of my eyes, as Nightraider fished around in her chest and tossed me my combat clothes.

This too-small black over-alls and orange armor with a helmet that looked like a bad and covered my nose on up, I was covered in exceptionally poor armor. Although it looked cool, it just made the wearer incredibly hot and sweaty.

"Why'd they name you Batcatcher, again?" Hearcrusher asked, patting me on the head like a pet.

I sighed, knowing where this was going. "Because I killed the Bat King, blah blah blah."

Then, when she said, "we should rename you as 'Piranha'." I said that same thing at the same time. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pouted. She folded her arms and her short, light brown hair glistened in the dim, flickering light. Her eyes had the same effect as her overall looks but to a greater extent Heartcrusher for sure.

Other than me, there were few others on the ship that consistently got bullied. Sometimes we would tease Brainsucker but he was a sensitive guy. Sometimes Hearcrusher but she was a pro at taking everything in stride. And sometimes Decieter but everything just went over his head. And Deathslinger was the second most teased only to me. But I was definitely the favorite.

"It's not like I've never hear that one before." I rolled my eyes for all to see.

Swiping my hair back into a low ponytail, everyone else continued to get ready. I needed to cut my hair but never had the time, having the most time-consuming chore list on the ship.

In less than a minute, we were all done. Weapons to our sides filled with lethal poison on the blades and the antidote in the handle and orange armor covering all the weak parts of us, we looked like strong warriors.

Heavy footsteps filled the hall and we all stood to attention even before Captain could take a single step into the room. The heavy set human had a bigger guy than he had head and a rusty colored beard. Bushy eyebrows covered the other half of his face so mostly what we could see was his bulging nose and pig eyes. And, like always, he wore a pirate hat and reeked of alcohol.

"'Ello, my specials," he said his usual beginning sentence with a common slur to the words. "Today, we shall be landing on Everett soon. I want this job over and done with within the hour!"

"Yes, Captain!" We said in unison. Captain twirled his fat, stubby finger in the air then walked out of the room. We relaxed immediately and walked over to the center of the armory.

Taking our usual places in the circle, Fireclaw sauntered over to Deathslinger and my part of the circle, clapping me on the back. Before he could start talking to me, the group looked at where the timer was going off and we all put on fake smiles. A blinding light, a small click, and in a few seconds, the picture was taken. A servant with his head low, scurried and out in just a few seconds, framing the picture and stationing it on the wall along with all the other pictures. There were more than fifty images of us and our smiles growing more and more like grimaces through the years. IN the beginning, Captain said that if our fate gave us reason to live so young, we should give others reason to die so young. That was when our picture was taken, when we were small, chubby, happy, and didn't know how our future would unfold.

As our culture worked on our old planet, children were named after seven years old. So, keeping to a similar tradition, Captain named us when we got a little older and after we had each contributed to his work. I caught and killed the Bat King so therefore, I was creatively named Batcatcher.

We all grew taller (except for Marincrasher who's still insanely short), and fitter, and grimmer. Nearly identical if you didn't know who or what we were, we all had gray skin and natural blue tattoos that glowed in the dark or on command, and it was common for them to glow or go darker based on our mood.

We all were made similarly but all of our tattoos were different along with our hair color and eye color.

Through the pictures, you could also see the progression of marks on our armor, each mark created to show for each amazing thing we did that pleased the Captain. Heartcrusher is the most disappointing team member in Captain's eyes with only seven marks. Fireclaw was easily the favorite with twenty four marks.

"Hey guys, how's it going?" Fireclaw asked, slinging his arms over Deathslingers and my shoulders.

"South," I replied lamely. I didn't like him much, to be frank.

"Clever," He said with a sigh of exasperation. "Anyways, I need to as you guys some questions about..."

"Yes?" Deathslinger prompted.

"Nightraider."

My eyes darted to Deathslinger who choked on his drink. Where he got the drink from, I wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry?" I said.

"Don't be. I want to ask her, um, a clarifying question," he said slowly, looking at us intently.

"Whether she likes you or is playing some sort of game?" I held back a snort when he nodded enthusiastically.

"Precisely. How should I ask?" His gray-blue eyes sparkled. It was honestly impressive how tall he was, standing a head taller than me. I was already pretty tall for our race, but he was practically a giant.

"Don't" I responded and he frowned but had no time to reply before we heard the large fans turn on outside the ship. We were landing.