Sitting alone with his feet kicked up on the coffee-stained wood of his workstation desk, Allinon Zammit cleaned his fingernails absentmindedly with a knife, watching a game of force-ball playing on the panel of hardened light positioned in the corner of the poorly-maintained lobby. With the display’s speakers on the fritz for the third time this month, the only recognizable sound in the room came from a recirculating stone waterfall hovering several centimeters above the floor behind his desk. Being Zammit's few sources of enjoyment in his workplace, the waterfall and several ferns dotting the lobby were all in pristine condition, down to newly-replaced potting soil; which, with the help of a patterned red rug covering the middle of the room, would have given the area a homey feel if it hadn't been for the aging, grey supercrete walls and columns.

Zammit's day was going unexpectedly well. Boring, in fact, which was all the better in his line of work. He hadn’t been forced to deal with any “cleaning,” as his employer called it, and they weren't scheduled to have any guests with unpaid loans, so the likelihood of having to clean up today was low. All he had to do was make sure nobody came through who wasn't supposed to, plus write to his girlfriend, who was halfway across the galaxy on vacation to the Empire's capital. All in all, a fine, lazy Octsday.

But of course, it wasn't to last. Just as he drew a projected screen from the holopad device implanted in his forearm to compose an email, a loud buzzer issued from the front door, causing him to start. With a muttered curse, he swiped the hologram to the side and lifted an LED monitor out of the desk, tapping a command into it. The display changed with a stutter to a camera’s view of the elevator room outside the lobby, where a person in a dark red hoodie stood in front of the locked door, a woman in handcuffs held tight beside him. The man, if he could be called such, was very feline in nature, with a humanoid body covered in grey and black fur and a facial structure almost identical to a lynx’s. Clothed in a skintight suit of woven black metal, the Human-looking woman wore a shadowy cape that made Zammit’s eyes go out of focus whenever he stared at it, and a helmet that looked to have had its face mask torn from the housing, leaving behind loose wires and metal connectors.

Zammit frowned suspiciously, putting his thumb on a microphone button before asking gruffly, “What do you want? Aren't you supposed to be out on the streets?”

The lynx looked up into the camera, one of his tufted cat-ears flicking annoyedly. “I was. I need to talk to the boss; I took care of our little “Phantom” issue.”

Scrunching up his nose, Zammit gave the woman a more thorough inspection, not quite believing anyone as small as her could have given them so much trouble. “That's the Phantom? Huh. Alright, well, if you're wrong, it's your head, not mine. Come on in, Jay.”

The door slid to the side with a swish and Jay walked inside, frogmarching the Phantom in front of him. Zammit stood out of his chair and met them in the middle of the room, looking her up and down. “Cute one, isn't she?” He commented. “Now who are you, short stuff?”

She bared her teeth in a snarl, revealing two full sets of razor-sharp canines as she hissed, “I'll bite your damn head off if you call me that again.”

Zammit put his hands up nonthreateningly. “Whoa, easy there sister. No need to go all murdery on us; we already saw you do that the last few weeks.” He turned his attention to Jay, backing up a pace. “Alright, head on back, but keep an eye on her. She's a Garn, so she's got Quenja.”

Jay shrugged. “And I'm a Chaaliss, so I do too. If she tries any magic nonsense, I'll just put a round from her own gun into her.” He pulled a black carbon sniper rifle off a shoulder strap and pat it.

“Right, well, see you. I was hoping not to do cleanup today.”

Jay grabbed the Phantom by the back of the collar and pushed her forward, giving Zammit a knowing grin. “Oh there’ll be more than you think.”

Zammit didn't quite understand what the lynx meant by that, but he never got a chance to ask, because Jay quickly walked through the doors at the back of the lobby and closed them with a thunk, continuing on down the hallway towards his boss’ office. The Phantom made a half-hearted attempt to shut down the electromagnetic cuffs on her wrists, but a quick rap on the back of her head stopped her from going any further with the idea. They strode in irritated silence down the industrial-looking hall past several open doors, where men and women of many different species lounged, ate, and tinkered with a myriad array of firearms and close-quarters weapons; few of whom paid them any attention. The whole place seemed to have a crimson theme to it, down to the blood-colored outfits of the people around the pair.

In stark contrast to the darker motif, at the end of the hall stood a gaudy bright-yellow door with the silhouette of a large rose embossed in chrome on its wide face, one of the thorns coming out of the surface to form a handle. Gripping the mechanism, Jay gave the Phantom an almost imperceptibly-quick look of apology, then twisted it. Once activated, the door slid unassisted into the wall to reveal a brightly-colored office with all kinds of trophies decorating the walls, from patterned fur pelts to the labeled weapons of defeated enemies. Behind a white wooden desk at the rear of the room, in front of a bank of windows that took up the entire wall, sat a rather large man adorned in fanciful multicolored attire, a short cherry top hat twirling around above his hand as if held in the air by magic. A man and a woman stood on either side of his desk with their arms crossed and grumpy expressions on their faces. The man was a Chaaliss like Jay, but more canine, with a wolfish appearance and blue-black fur. The woman, on the other hand, was reptilian in origin, akin to a tailless, wingless dragon with the body structure of a professional wrestler; an Esvidian. They took one look at the Phantom and immediately changed their stances, both of them tensing almost imperceptibly like coiled springs ready to pounce if anything happened.

The man at the desk spread his arms wide upon their entrance, smiling widely as the hat hovered up and fitted itself on his head. “Jay!” He said happily, his booming voice making the two Chaaliss pin back their ears a bit from the noise. “Ali called ahead; told me who you had with you. I knew you wouldn't let me down, old friend. The great Phantom, caught by a cat with a handgun; how wonderful. Bring her down a tad, now would you lad?”

Jay nodded, putting his paw against the back of the Phantom's knee and pushing her down with his hand on her shoulder. She collapsed to a kneel, an enraged grimace on her face as the man leaned close to her face, smiling to show a double set of canines almost identical to hers. “Merrian Zur, leader of the Bleeding Rose, but I'm sure you knew that already. And who might you be?”

A soft cracking sound issued from the Phantom's closed mouth, then she stuck her head forward, spitting a molar right into Merrian’s face. The calcium projectile bounced harmlessly but irritatingly off the bridge of the Garn’s nose, causing him to recoil. Jay and both of the guards drew pistols, but Merrian held up a hand, wiping his brow with the other. “Was that a tooth?” He said in disbelief, glancing down at the white pebble on the floor. “As impressive as that is. . .” Lightning-quick, he curled his hand into a fist and swung it into the side of her head, throwing her to the ground with the force of it.

Lying on the floor, she let out a pained groan and rolled over, slowly pushing herself back up to her knees as he towered over her.

Pulling ornate brass knuckles from his pockets, Merrian's expression became one of pure rage, his large cheeks sending spittle flying as he roared, “Look lass, I get you're mad at being a captive, but WHAT IN THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?! You killed my men, you sabotaged my business dealings, you stole my money, and you had the audacity to leave a calling card every time! You screwed with one of the most violent gangs in the city; what in God's name did you expect to happen?” Punctuating his question, he pulled her up and punched upward into her lower sternum, forcing air from her lungs with a sickening *whumpf* as he dropped her. “I am so goddamned sick of vigilantes trying to force their “justice” out on the streets. You knew what the end result would be, so what made you do it? I honestly can't come up with a reason for your stupidity.”

On her hands and knees in front of him, the Phantom looked up and forced a grin, her voice quiet but with a hint of odd humor. “I wanted your view,” she said. Then, her tone changed, talking as if she wasn't directly speaking to anyone in the room. “Strike, aggressor is set for fire.”

Merrian gave Jay a puzzled look, which the Chaaliss seemed to be mimicking, but as a horrible realization dawned on him, he backed towards his desk, pointing at the Phantom. “She's a fed! Reya, kill her; you two, get ready for Coalition agents!”

The pair of Chaaliss nodded and loaded their weapons as the Esvidian woman drew her pistol on the Phantom, pulling it up so the barrel was pointed right at the top of her skull. But before she could pull the trigger, the Phantom collapsed to the floor, her breathing stopping suddenly. Reya jerked back in surprise, then looked to Merrian in confusion, her weapon hand dropping to her side. “What the–”

She was cut off by a quiet *beep beep* from at her feet, and looked down to see the broken tooth on the floor flash a teal light. Her slitted eyes widened in fear and she tried to get her sidearm up to shoot the Phantom, but a wave of electric energy burst from the molar, cutting out the lights, causing electronics around the room to spark and shut down, and painfully shocking all of the office’s occupants. The electromagnetic pulse plunged the room into a state of half darkness, lit only by the lights off the city coming through the windows behind the desk.

Breathing heavily and shaking from the pain, Merrian used his desk to pull himself up, looking around for his underlings. “Is everyone okay?” He asked irritatedly, trying to work the stiffness out of his fingers. The gang members answered in the affirmative, though not happily, getting up from where they had fallen and glancing about for threats. Merrian flipped the Phantom's body over and checked her neck for a pulse, but found no signs of life in her. Letting out a huff, he stood and held out a hand, waiting a moment as a drawer in his desk opened and a large revolver lifted into the air and flew to his hand. He cocked back the hammer and readied himself for something to come through the door, convinced that he had finally done something to bring on the wrath of a galaxy-wide empire.

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Suddenly, the office was illuminated by a bright floodlight from the window, causing all four of the gang members to turn around and raise their firearms. But it was too late to do anything about the tri-rotor drone hovering right outside the building, because it had already opened fire. Dozens of bullets swept across the room from a rotary machine gun slung underneath the bot, catching Jay in the arm and practically cutting the other Chaaliss in half above the waist. Merrian managed to get his bulk behind the desk fast enough to avoid the carnage, and Reya just put up her hands, projecting a rippling field in front of her that threw the rounds to either side before they could hit her. A single shot rang out over the whirring of the minigun, then the drone exploded, sending one of its rotors flying through a window and ricocheting off a decorative sword before clattering across the floor.

Blood soaking through his already-red pullover, Jay let his smoking gun down with a wry expression on his face, looking at Reya and Merrian. “I am so done with today,” he said.

“Agreed,” Merrian grumbled, looking at the dead body of the wolf. “They'll pay for this. I'll make sure of it.”

A soft hum, like the sound of a powering generator filled the air, and the shadowed shape of the Phantom's body shifted, sitting upright in the darkness. Jay looked down at her, but did nothing about it, simply glancing up at Merrian, then dropping his sidearm at his feet with a relenting sigh. In a flash of movement, the Phantom grabbed the weapon out of the the air and jumped up, putting a bullet through the center of Reya’s chest and tackling Merrian into his desk. The gang boss’ revolver flew out of his hand as his head hit the wood, then a quick punch to the pressure point on his collar effectively incapacitated him. Meanwhile, Reya was able to just recover from the stagger the Phantom's bullet had caused before a furry form shoulder-checked her into a wall, causing crimson liquid to spray from between her broken scales and into her shirt. As a betrayed look came over her features, Jay tore the pistol from her grasp and; with some serious effort to overcome her strength; pushed her arms aside to fit the barrel against the bottom of her reptilian muzzle.

“Sorry, kid,” the lynx whispered sincerely.

As the Phantom righted herself and took a step away from Merrian's groaning figure, two gunshots rang out, followed by the thudding sound of something dropping to the floor. Joining her at the desk, Jay slung the black carbon rifle off of his shoulder and handed it to her, looking no worse for wear, aside from the blood dripping from his arm. She took the rifle with a nod of gratitude, putting two fingers to just behind her ear. “Strike, aggressor has neutralized resistance. Rangers Tara and Drad’Mosav ready for the sermon.”

“And sorry about your drone, strike two,” Jay added.

“A disposable asset,” a male voice said from seemingly nowhere, the static of radio chatter barely noticeable. “Ash can live without it. Sermon’s already going, so we need to move the clock forward. Tara, set up; take the shot when you can.”

The Phantom nodded, tapping the radio implanted in her skull. “Understood, strike one. Taking up position.” Checking her magazine before loading a round into her rifle’s chamber, she made a flicking movement with her hand that pushed glass away from her feet, giving her space to sit cross-legged in front of the broken window with her sniper scope peering down on the city from twelve stories up. “Uriel, deal with Zur.”

Jay gave Merrian a look, almost as if asking, “do I have to?,” but shrugged and helped the man up anyway, pulling him to a seated position on the desk and removing several hidden weapons from his person.

Groggily staring at “Jay,” a look of bewildered hopelessness crossed Merrian’s face. “Why, Jay?” He asked hurtfully. “We've know each other for so long. . .”

The lynx sighed. “Look, you've got my deepest apologies mate, but Jay doesn't exist, and we've only known each other for a week.”

“What? But. . . you were at my wedding.” Merrian looked absolutely heartbroken, but the reality of his situation seemed to be slowly dawning on him.

“Jay” shook his head. “Nope. Altered memories. Name's Uriel; Coalition Rangers.”

“Rangers?” If Merrian could look any more distressed, he would have. “What do Rangers want with me? I'm not a threat to you; any of you. Why did you play with my mind like this?!”

At this point, Uriel picked him up off the desk and guided him over to the window, pointing down at a massive, short building across the busy street of hovering vehicles. “Don't want you for anything. As my friend said, we need your view, or a sight-line pretty close to it. You just happened to be the person in this building we didn't feel morally wrong about killing to get our shot. I had to get your trust to do it, so I did.”

“Why are you telling him all of this?” Tara, the Phantom, asked exasperatedly.

“Because I’m a spy movie villain and felt like venting, and he’s not going to be able to tell anyone, so why not?”

“I what?” Merrian whimpered.

Ignoring him, Uriel leaned against an unbroken window and peered down at the squat building. “Think you can make the shot?”

Lowering her rifle slightly, Tara gave him a bit of a look. “Uri, my eyes are thirty-second-generation Maloteks; I could do this without a scope.”

“You upgraded. Weren't they Furos products before?” Wiping blood from his pullover, Uriel held his hand over the bullet wound in his arm, a disk of light forming in his palm that quickly regenerated the damaged tissue.

Off to the side, Merrian quietly backed into a wall and pulled an ancient-looking sword from a decorative sheath, brandishing it in both hands as he crept towards Uriel.

“They were, but I changed my chassis a few weeks ago. I may look like a Garn, but my synthetic bodies deteriorate much faster than real ones, even with cloned organs. May survive even less time if I keep taking EMPs like that.”

Uriel's attention flicked to the corner of his vision, watching the overweight Garn’s reflection in the dark window as he approached. “Hm. Trouble of being an artificial intelligence, I guess. Well, good thing you shut down first. I've heard those tooth bombs really put out some power for their size.” His voice rose to address Merrian, his words gaining a threatening edge. “Zur, if you come any closer, I will throw you out this window.”

“Don't compromise the mission, Uri,” Tara commented without looking up from her scope.

At that moment, Merrian charged, swinging the sword with all of his might just as Uriel turned around. There was the hum of metal slicing through the air, then a dull thud, like the edge had impacted wood. Uriel stood with his hand wrapped around the blade and holding it away from his chest, the air around both his fist and the sword shimmering as if it was superheated. Enraged, Merrian let out a bellowed roar and tried to push Uriel through the broken window beside them, but the lynx was stronger than he was, managing to not only stand his ground, but also to bring his arm back and swing his fist into Merrian's nose. The blow sent him reeling, and as Uriel released the blade, he toppled backwards, letting the weapon clatter across the floor away from him.

Without a moment's hesitation, Uriel strode forward and put his paw on Merrian's throat, applying just enough pressure to suffocate, but not crush his windpipe. Getting very serious, he looked down into the Garn's eyes with fiery anger and said through gritted fangs, “You asked me to kill people with families, with friends, who didn't deserve their deaths. You asked me to help you wage war in the streets. You asked me to teach your daughter how to kill. And I did all of this because it was my mission, but now I've been ordered to kill you, and let me tell you mate, it is one hell of a pleasure.” As he spoke, he felt an invisible force tugging at him, and saw the same shimmering in the air that had affected the sword, but he resisted it, pushing down on Merrian's neck just a bit harder. “Not even Quenja is going to save you now. Trying to magic your way out of this is just. . .” he squeezed with his booted paw until he could feel cartilage giving way, “. . .going to make it worse.”

The resistance persisted for a moment, then Merrian seemed to accept his fate, giving up his struggling and letting his telekinetic hold on Uriel loosen. As his vision flickered and his three lungs burned with their need for oxygen, he managed to gasp one word, full of spite and betrayal, then faded away.

“Traitor.”

Uriel leaned in close and took his paw off Merrian's throat, snarling into his expressionless pale face, “And proud of it.”

An explosion of sound like a lightning bolt echoed through the office as the whole room was lit up, then both the sound and light dissipated into the air, replaced by Tara's calm voice. “Shot out.”

The man from before came over the pair's radios, saying swiftly, “Strike confirms hit, secondary target KIA by jagged decap. Strike, this is strike lead, move in, locate and apprehend primary target. Overwatch, deploy riot team, we’re going to need them. Good work, aggressor. Exfil at dropship.”

Snapping back to an uncaring, bored expression, Uriel stood and crossed his arms, looking down at the building below as the flashes of gunfire could be seen erupting through the windows. “Understood, strike. Stay safe down there, you four.”

“Will do, aggressor.”

The man's voice was joined by several others as orders were issued and a battle raged below, but none of it pertained to the pair in the office, who watched the skirmish for a brief time, then looked at each other, nodded, and moved towards the door. Handcuffing her hands behind her back once again, Uriel took Tara's rifle and slipped its strap over his shoulder, but also removed a cylindrical device from her utility belt, setting it on the desk and hitting a sequence of buttons on its top. He paused as the door opened, taking one last look at the office and its dead inhabitants before pushing Tara through. As they walked down the hallway, he brought up a holopad on his forearm and pressed a button, wiping his time with the Bleeding Rose from the face of the galaxy with an explosion so powerful, the floor beneath their feet shuddered. Gang members came out of every room and rushed towards the office, ignoring the pair almost entirely, but by the time they came to the aid of their leader, the room was nothing but ash and roiling orange napalm.

When the bulk of the group had past them, Uriel unlocked Tara's cuffs and both of them made a quick exit, passing a very confused-looking Zammit without a word and disappearing into the the streets below shortly after. Being a long-time agent on many missions, Uriel knew he'd look back on this as just another job, but for now, he let himself feel a sense of accomplishment. He had completed his objective, and had gotten to kill someone he didn't like in the process.