Why did I do this to myself? Was the Question that went through my head as my stomach dropped with the sudden descent, a feeling I never quite got used to despite the number of times I’d been on one of these shuttles. The reinforced hull around me creaked under the pressure, but I wasn’t sure if it was the ship or just my nerves making it seem worse. 

I gripped the armrest as tightly as possible, trying to push away the nagging thought that one day, one of these rides might be my last. Space travel is always a gamble, and I’m not the luckiest guy out there.

I've heard that many people like this part of the space travel the most. The rapid plummet toward the ground, the flames licking the ship’s exterior as it fights to keep itself together. Me? I find it nauseating.

It was totally a foreign concept to me how people found this fun but I suppose the bloody adrenaline junkies wanted to reach a new high. 

The idea that I’m thousands of feet above a planet with nothing but some metal and a prayer between me and certain death doesn’t sit well. Of course a it thousands of times better then floating in the void of space waiting for some Deus ex machina to happen. 

We continued to plumet at extreme speeds and I could feel the heat rising even through the insulated walls. I cursed under my breath, wishing I’d thought to reinforce the rune on my clothes before this trip. This dam thing was supposed to keep me cold but seriously it barely gave a cold breeze. 

I seriously had to question why I had to take this job? I already knew the god damn answer and it made me even more annoyed at myself for it. 

The only good thing that came out of this was that I wasn't the only one. Glancing around the shuttle’s cabin. The other passengers were just as miserable as I was, their faces slick with sweat, their eyes dull with resignation. 

The seat itself was small that it had barely any room for myself. I sighed, resigned to the fact that comfort was a luxury I wouldn’t be enjoying any time soon.

Space travel used to be the stuff of dreams—visions of sleek ships gliding through the cosmos, carrying explorers to new frontiers, new worlds. But the reality was far less glamorous.  

The big ships belonged to the rich and the poor or average couldn't afford it if course I couldn't complain since my upbringing was probably better then most. But it didn't mean I couldn't complain. 

The shuttle I was on was old, a relic from a time when people still cared about aesthetics and comfort, but now it was just a hunk of metal barely held together by hope and duct tape. I’d heard stories of ships like this falling apart mid-flight, their passengers sucked out into the void, but I tried not to dwell on that. It wasn’t like I had many other options. Besides, if it came down to it, I’d rather die quickly in a crash than slowly in the scorching heat of Muspell.

My stomach did another summersault as we broke the into the atmosphere as the ship tried to adapt to the gravity of the planet which was already harder for most people. 

I wondered if CC was feeling any of this—if he was sweating somewhere on this godforsaken planet, knowing that someone was coming after him. Probably not. He was probably enjoying a nice, cool drink in some shady bar, laughing at the poor suckers like me who were chasing him down.

The shuttle landed with a jarring thud that rattled my teeth. The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom, but I wasn’t really listening. Something about safety protocols, or maybe a half-hearted apology for the rough ride. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. We were here, and that was the only thing that mattered. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, trying to calm the hammering in my chest.

When the shuttle doors finally opened, a wave of blistering heat surged inside, hitting me like a punch to the gut. I squinted against the brightness of Muspell’s twin suns, each one burning down with a ferocity that made me feel like an ant under a magnifying glass.

As I stepped out of the shuttle, the heat seemed to wrap around me, sinking into my skin and making me feel like I was standing in the middle of an oven. I adjusted my hat, a wide-brimmed thing I’d picked up at a market on Earth. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

The spaceport was a dusty, chaotic affair, filled with a mix of traders, travelers, and more than a few shady characters. The kind of place where you keep your head down and your belongings close, just in case someone decides to relieve you of them.

Of course since Muspell was one of the farthest planets from the I.G.A they weren't as prominent on it so very few ships arrived here. 

I weaved through the crowd as fast as possible since the noise, smell and everything else was so overwhelming that I thought i woulf faint it I stayed a minute longer. I wasn’t here to make friends or cause trouble; I just needed to get to my apartment, regroup, and figure out my next move.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I was so focused on navigating the crowd that I didn’t see the person in front of me until I collided with them. We bumped shoulders hard enough to jolt me, but I managed to stay on my feet. “Sorry,” I muttered out of instinct, not even looking up to see who I’d run into. It didn’t matter, really. I just wanted to keep moving, to get out of the heat and the noise as quickly as possible.

Whoever it was didn't respond and walked away. It did annoy me since that was common courtesy to atleast acknowledge the person of you did something wrong but I took a breath and moved on. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of pushing through the throng of people, I reached the city’s housing district. The noise of the spaceport began to fade behind me, replaced by the quieter hum of the city. The buildings here were different—less industrial, more residential. They were constructed from a mix of metal and a strange, glassy material that seemed to absorb the heat and radiate it back in soft waves.

It made everything look a little blurry, like the whole city was shimmering in the heat. I could see large, cylindrical devices spaced along the streets, humming quietly as they pumped cool air into the surrounding area.

From what I read up on Muspell these cooling units were a lifeline in a place like Muspell, though they only offered temporary relief from the relentless heat.

The housing district was quieter, the crowd thinning as I ventured deeper into the city. Here, the streets were narrower, lined with small shops and cafes, their windows fogged with condensation from the cooling units inside. I could see people sitting inside, sipping drinks and trying to escape the heat, but I had no interest in joining them. I just wanted to find my apartment and collapse onto a bed.

It was a bloody 20 hour trip from earth to here like seriously I hadn't gotten a lick of sleep in a day or so. 

The building I was staying in wasn’t anything special—three stories tall, with a dull metallic exterior that blended in with the rest of the city. It looked like it had seen better days, but it would do. I wasn’t here for luxury; I just needed a place to crash while I tracked down CC. I walked up to the main door and pressed the bell, letting the landlord know I was here.

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open to reveal a small creature with beady eyes and twitching antennae. A Roxian, I remembered. The landlord was a Roxian. They were a long-lived species, well-suited to environments like this one. I’d heard they thrived in extreme conditions. 

The Roxian eyed me with a mix of suspicion and indifference, its beady eyes narrowing as it looked me over. It was barely half my height, with a wiry frame and skin that shimmered slightly in the faint light. Its antennae twitched as it glanced at my dusty clothes and the wide-brimmed hat I was clutching.

“You the tenant for the month?” the Roxian rasped, its voice sounding like sandpaper on metal. It didn’t wait for an answer, its gaze already shifting to the identification card I was pulling from my pocket.

“Yeah, that’s me. Saturn Crowley,” I said, handing over the card. The Roxian snatched it with a speed that caught me off guard, scrutinizing the details before handing it back with a curt nod.

“Third floor, last door on the right,” the landlord instructed, its voice as dry as the heat outside. It gestured toward a narrow staircase that wound its way up the side of the building. “No visitors after dark, and keep the noise down. The walls aren’t as thick as they look.”

I nodded, taking the key the Roxian offered with a clawed hand. There was no point in making small talk—the creature clearly wasn’t interested. With a final glance around the dimly lit lobby, I headed toward the stairs, each step creaking under my weight as I climbed.

The third floor was similar to the other two that it was basically impossible to determine which floor you were on unless you were on the stairs. 

The air inside was slightly cooler, but the heat still clung to me like a second skin. I found my room at the end of the corridor, the door marked with a faded number that barely stood out against the dull metal. Sliding the key into the lock, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The apartment was about as exciting as I expected: small, functional, and utterly devoid of character. A single bed was tucked into one corner, the sheets a plain, nondescript grey. A kitchenette with a few basic appliances occupied the opposite wall, and a tiny window offered a view of the neighboring buildings.

The dome’s shimmering haze made it hard to see much beyond the immediate surroundings, which was probably for the best. The place had a feel like it had been around for decades, with no one caring much about aesthetics.

I dropped my bag onto the bed and let out a long breath, trying to shake off the tension that had been building up since the shuttle ride. The walls were thin, like the Roxian had warned, and I could hear the faint sounds of Person from the next room. It was a bit annoying that I was able to hear them walking but it didn't really matter. 

Laying on the floor I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the exhaustion creeping in. The journey had been long, and the heat had sapped whatever energy I had left.

But there was no time to rest. I needed to get my bearings, figure out where CC might be hiding, and come up with a plan to catch him. I’d dealt with scumbags like him before, and while I wasn’t the most confident bounty hunter, I knew enough to be careful.

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a small datapad and powered it on. The screen flickered to life, and I began scrolling through the files I had on CC. His image appeared on the screen—a man of medium height and curly crown hair with sky blue eyes. He had some markings on his hands and arms but other then that nothing was off about him. 

He looked like the kind of guy who enjoyed causing trouble, and from what I’d heard, he was good at it. Human trafficking, drug smuggling, extortion—CC had his hands in all of it. And now he was here, on Muspell, hiding out like the rat he was. The bounty on his head was substantial, enough to make this trip worth the risk, but that didn’t make the prospect of facing him any less daunting.

I stared at the image for a moment, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination. This was my job, and I had a reputation to uphold, even if it wasn’t exactly a stellar one. Sure, I might not be the best, but I wasn’t the worst, either. I was just… average. And that was okay. Most days.

Yet something about Always made my stomach churn but was never able to figure it out why. Why did it make me feel bitter?

After a while, I set the datapad aside and lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The sounds of the city were muted, distant, as if the oppressive heat had sapped the energy from everything around me. The bed creaked under my weight, but it was surprisingly comfortable, or maybe I was just too tired to care.

Closing my eyes my thoughts drifted my younger siblings they would probably be starting high school right about now. It really was amazing that time would go away so quickly but huh they would probably have ruff years ahead of them. 

Maybe it was just the stress of the trip, or maybe it was the fact that I’d spent so long worrying about this job that my brain was latching onto anything but for a brief moment my mind went into the cliche about being a character of my favourite book which made me embarrassed and emotional again. 

This was a sort of problrm with me I was a bit of a emotional person that would probably fall easily. 

I sighed and rolled onto my side, willing myself to relax. The last thing I needed was to start second-guessing everything. I’d figure it out. I always did, eventually. And if I didn’t… well, that was just part of the job. Not every hunt ended in success, but I had to believe that this one would. If only because I couldn’t afford for it not to.

As my thoughts began to blur and drift, the last thing that crossed my mind was a line from an old Earth novel I’d read as a kid. Something about how sleep was the brother of death, but less final. I couldn’t remember who had said it or why, but it seemed fitting, in a strange way. The idea of drifting off into the unknown, of surrendering to something beyond your control, was both comforting and terrifying. But right now, comfort won out, and before I knew it, I was sinking into the darkness, my mind finally at rest, if only for a little while.