The man sitting across from me was a rather gruff fellow. You could tell by the way that he sat in his chair with his leg crossed over the other that he generally thinks that talking to people like me is a waste of time. I can't stand people like that, to be honest. As I'm studying him, he leans forward and taps on the desk expectantly, and I give him a quizzical look. "Well?" He says, in a forced deep voice that definitely does not sound organic. Hunters like him are always pulling shit like this, trying to pretend they're some big cool guy just because they kill people for money.
"What are we talking about? I wasn't paying attention." A flicker of irritation shadowed the hunter's eyes, his nostrils flaring as he fought to control his temper. His jaw clenched, emphasizing the rugged lines of his weathered face. "Your kind are always so uptight, relax man." I chuckle and reach out and pat his shoulder. "The Llamrei has been through many trips, I think she can handle a single bounty hunter on board." I must confess, I've never had quite a job such as this one, but he's paying me to move him two systems over at the same price as a full cargo hold, and I'm not one to complain when money is waved in front of my face. Obviously, the job is suspicious. I mean, this guy reeks of "on the run bad-ass" or something along those lines, but the Llamrei is a fast ship, and she's seen her fair share of fights. The bounty hunter crosses his arms before he speaks.
"Well, that's another topic I wanted to discuss. Your ship is worrisome. It fails to meet at least a third of interstellar safety standards, and I doubt its ability in a dogfight."
"Well first of all, she only fails to meet a tenth of the safety standards, and secondly, dogfighting in space is for common thugs and the military. I'm a civilized man" I squeeze his shoulder in defense of my beloved spacecraft and stand up. Turning to the window of the small office, I look out the blinds, resting my eyes upon the eclipsed night sky of Lion L5.
"What does that make me?"
"My client, of course" The man crosses his arms and looks away. I turn, outstretching an arm to the man. "So, do we have a deal?" He shakes my hand and nods. "I believe that settles things, then. We'll leave once the sun-"
Now, I'm a professional, see? I normally would have loved to finish that sentence. After all, it's only polite to finish speaking when you talk to someone, and then patiently listen while they speak. My mother always told me that is the basics of conversation, so I felt rather put off when a sudden explosion from the back wall impeded my ability to speak. Truly, I was embarrassed. Turning towards the place where my wall used to be, I see 3 men clad in deep maroon suits. Their suits are adorned with their signature cosmic veil, colloquially known as stardust, which give off a faint yet ethereal glow as they run down their bodies. Helmets hide the men's faces, their visors tinted black, and the respirators in the front contort due to the way it interacts with the stardust into a sinister look on the helmets, forming a sort of face for each one, yet impossible to recognize nor describe. Many of those from the lower systems will instantly recognize these uniforms.
My client narrows his eyes at them. "Created" He mutters under his breath.
"Gentlemen!" I shout at the Created, spreading my arms as I take a step towards them. "I know Created have a different culture, but terrorism is generally considered pretty rude." Brandishing a pistol at me, the middle of the three steps forward, pressing the barrel to my temple. The man's proximity to me allowed me to see past the veil of the stardust, and in between dissipations and the ever-so mesmerizing reformation of the stardust, I could make out the body shape of the fellow in front of me. My mother also used to tell me that information is everything, and that if I'm in a bind, I should gather as much information as I could. Now, at this exact moment, with a gun against my head, I was pretty confident when I deemed this to be a bit of a bind. And the information that I started to gather was that the fellow in front of me was not a fellow at all, but a fellow-ess! A She-fellow? A fellita? I hold a firm belief that primary sources are always the best, so who better to ask on this matter than the Fell-ette in front of me? "Oh, my apologies. You're not a gentleman, but a wo-"
A blast from her pistol goes off. Thankfully, she flicked it away before pulling the trigger, so my brain did not have to endure an encounter with around 100 grams of lead. Unfortunately, I was cut off again, and now I'm feeling rude. I do so dreadfully despise being rude. After all, I am a civilized man. Of course, my rudeness only stems from the actions of the Created in front of me, but I do not believe in excuses.
"That man is our property" She points to my client. Her voice is low, and sounds like that of an old man who smokes a pack of cigarettes in a day, raspy and somehow perpetually angry. Actually, this is rather civilized for the Created. Most would have at least shot me by now. They also usually travel in packs larger than three... When they act intelligent like this, it's rather concerning.
"That's gonna be a conflict of interest... See, he was about to pay me, and-" The Created cut me off for a third time today as one of the other two created step forward and hand me a briefcase. Opening it, I find one of their Cosmic veils. These things are priceless, seeing as you'd typically have to kill a Created to get your hands on one, and that would mean being marked for death. This Stardust adornment is considered to be one of the most beautiful items of clothing one can wear in the upper systems, due to its astral nature. "Well, that will suffice."
"Wuh- Wait!" The hunter splutters, his fear of the Created beginning to show. "You can't just-"
"It would appear I can, my good sir." I close the briefcase and walk towards the exit. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."