Kal adjusted the straps on his gear, methodically securing the few weapons he had left. His ship hummed quietly around him, the sound of its engines almost soothing as they cut through the void of space. He wasn't outfitted like the cyborgs he was about to face—no indestructible alloy armor, no advanced combat systems embedded in his bones. Just his exoskeleton, a couple of old guns, and the drive to finish the job.
As he tightened the last strap, the door to his quarters slid open. Sara stepped in, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and resolve. Without a word, she walked over and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug.
Kal froze, a little surprised. Sara wasn't the type to show affection often—she was practical, sharp, always thinking a step ahead. But here she was, holding him close. He felt a little embarrassed, unsure of what to say.
"Good luck, Kal," she whispered, her voice softer than usual.
He cleared his throat, awkwardly patting her back. "Uh, thanks. I'll be fine, you know. Always am."
Sara pulled back, her eyes narrowing as she scanned his face. "Just… be careful, alright? These aren't like the usual thugs. They're different."
Kal nodded, forcing a grin. "I'll bring 'em in. Dead or alive."
With a final nod, Sara turned and left, the door sliding shut behind her. Kal sighed, running a hand through his hair as he headed for the cockpit. He hated goodbyes like that. It made things feel too final.
Settling into the pilot's seat, Kal began scanning the surrounding space for any sign of his targets. The Iron Sparrow glided smoothly across the black void as he sifted through the data feeds. News about the two cyborg fugitives came in waves. Everywhere he looked, there were reports of their strength, their invincibility. They had fought off space cops, wiped out entire crews, and slipped away every time the Federation thought they had them cornered.
Kal frowned as he read one of the reports. He couldn't help but wonder if his low-grade exoskeleton enhancements were even close to enough for what was coming. His metallic framework wasn't built for brute strength; it was designed to keep him alive, not to make him unstoppable.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the blinking lights of the control panel. It didn't matter. He had finished every hunt before this one, no matter the odds. This wouldn't be any different. Shaking off the doubt, Kal punched in the coordinates for Alvor-9, his ship rumbling as it adjusted course.
The barren, lawless planet came into view, its rust-colored surface dotted with decaying mining colonies and rundown establishments. Alvor-9 wasn't much—just a pitstop for criminals and mercenaries on the run, a place where no one asked questions. Exactly the kind of place the fugitives would hide.
As Kal's ship touched down, he was greeted by glares from the locals. They didn't like outsiders, especially ones with Federation ties. He ignored them, keeping his head down as he made his way into one of the seedy-looking bars near the landing bay.
Inside, the place was dimly lit, the air thick with smoke and the stench of cheap liquor. Kal walked up to the bar, nodding at the bartender, a grizzled man with a cybernetic arm.
"You seen these two?" Kal asked, sliding a holo-display of the fugitives across the counter.
The bartender glanced at the images, then met Kal's eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. And I don't want trouble in my place."
Kal raised an eyebrow. "I'm not looking to make a mess. Just need some answers."
The bartender shook his head, pouring Kal a drink. "Like I said, I don't want trouble. You're not supposed to ask about those two. If you're smart, you'll leave it alone."
Kal didn't press the issue. He took the drink, leaning back against the bar, his eyes scanning the room. The locals were watching him, suspicious and wary, but one figure caught his attention. Familiar.
There, sitting in a shadowed corner, was one of the fugitives. His name was Vance Korros, a lean, dangerous-looking cyborg with chrome-plated arms and a face scarred from countless battles. But what made Kal's heart skip a beat was the fact that Korros was staring right back at him, smirking.
Kal pushed off the bar, walking toward him. The moment Korros saw Kal approaching, his smirk widened. "You lost, bounty hunter?"
Kal stopped a few feet away, his hand resting casually on his sidearm. "Vance Korros. I'm here to collect the bounty. You can either surrender, or I'll take your corpse back to the Federation. Your choice."
Korros laughed, loud and mocking. "You? You think you can take me? What are you gonna do, little man? That toy you're packing won't even scratch me."
Kal's face remained expressionless, but his fingers tightened on his weapon. "I've taken down tougher scum than you."
At the sight of the confrontation, the patrons of the bar started to scatter, recognizing that trouble was about to go down. Chairs scraped against the floor as they hurried for the exit, leaving only Kal and Korros in the center of the room.
Suddenly, the door to the bar swung open, and in stepped the second fugitive—Brakkar Torsk. The hulking cyborg was massive, his bald head gleaming under the dim lights. His body was nearly all machine, with steel-plated muscles and glowing red eyes that scanned the room.
Brakkar cracked his knuckles, his voice a deep rumble. "Looks like we've got a little pest to squash."
Kal turned to face him, his stance shifting as he prepared for the inevitable fight. "I wouldn't get too comfortable. You're both going down, one way or another."
Brakkar grinned, a savage look in his eyes. "I'm gonna break your skull and feed you to the space dogs."
Kal didn't flinch. He dropped into a fighting stance, the weight of his exoskeleton buzzing faintly beneath his skin, ready to move.
This was it..