Dominic's boots echoed on the cold, metal floors of Exprimation Station as he walked through the crowded corridors. The auction hall was behind him now, the lights of the station casting long shadows across his path. The credits from the sale burned a hole in his pocket, but there was no time to dwell on them. His mind was already moving forward, calculating his next move.
The mercenary office wasn't far from the docking bay. It was a stark contrast to the glitzy auction halls, a nondescript building tucked in the station's industrial sector. Neon lights flickered above a plain sign, "Mercenary Assignments—Jobs Available."
Inside, the atmosphere was dense with the scent of old leather, oil, and plasma fumes. The air felt heavy with ambition, with the silent promise that anything could be bought here—anything, as long as you had the credits. The room was filled with holo-screens, flickering displays of job boards, wanted posters, and bounties. A few hardened faces sat at the terminals, scrolling through listings for mercenary work, eyeing the most lucrative offers.
Dominic walked past them, his gaze focused on the woman at the counter. She was wearing a combat vest, her dark hair tied back in a tight bun, her expression unreadable. Behind her, a wall of mission boards flickered, flashing with offers ranging from assassination contracts to high-risk salvage operations.
She didn't look up as he approached, but there was a momentary pause in her movements—something that told him she knew who he was.
"You looking for work?" she asked, her voice smooth but direct.
Dominic leaned against the counter, placing his hands on the cool metal surface. "Maybe," he said, his eyes scanning the screens behind her. "I'm thinking bigger than just scavenging. I need something that'll make people notice."
She studied him for a moment, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "The scavenger's life not enough for you anymore? You know, I've seen more than a few like you come through here. They all say the same thing. They want a big payday. Something to get them out of this station, out of the scraps."
"I've been living off scraps for too long," Dominic replied, his voice firm, a spark of resolve in his eyes. "It's time to make a real name for myself. Something worth more than just a pile of credits."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? These jobs, they aren't like fixing up mechs or scavenging old tech. You're talking blood. And a lot of it."
Dominic's gaze hardened. He wasn't afraid of blood. Blood was something he understood. It was what ran through the veins of every machine he had ever repaired, the pulse of the galaxy that fueled everything.
"I'm not scared of a little blood," he said. "I just want something worth fighting for."
She nodded, as if weighing him, her eyes lingering on his features for a moment longer than necessary. Then she tapped a few commands on her console, bringing up a new list of assignments.
"Alright," she said. "I've got a few options. But if you want something that'll get you noticed, something that'll give you power, you'll need to make a choice. The kind of job that builds reputations, or the kind that guarantees a quick payday."
Dominic stood up straight, his mind already racing through the possibilities. His fingers itched to get back to work, to build, to create. But this wasn't just about creating anymore. It was about creating a legacy.
He took a deep breath.
"I'm not looking for a quick payday. I'm looking for something... lasting."
The woman slid a datapad across the counter. "Then this is for you."
Dominic took the pad and read the screen, his brow furrowing as he scanned the details. A series of high-risk contracts, a few of them involving notorious criminal organizations, and others targeting powerful corporate interests. But one in particular caught his eye. It was a contract for a high-ranking CMC officer, rumored to be behind a series of illegal weapons deals.
The pay was substantial, a small fortune for the job. But it was the description that intrigued him most: "Eliminate or capture CMC officer—Reward: 5 million credits."
Dominic's eyes narrowed. This was bigger than any job he'd ever taken. And it had CMC written all over it.
He could feel the fire growing inside him. This was his opportunity.
"I'll take it," he said without hesitation.
The woman didn't flinch. She simply nodded, as if she had expected this answer all along.
"Good choice," she said. "There's more to this job than just pulling the trigger. The CMC doesn't take kindly to anyone who crosses them, so if you want this to be more than just a payday, you'll need to be smart. Plan ahead. And don't get yourself killed."
Dominic's lips curled into a faint smile. "Don't worry. I'm not the one who's going to be dying."
With the contract in hand, Dominic walked out of the office, his mind already working on the details. This was his chance to finally get noticed. To prove that he wasn't just another scavenger. That he could build something greater than just machines—he could build power.
His fingers itched for the tools, his mind already forming the plan. This job, it was the beginning of something much bigger. A reputation. A legacy. The kind of legacy that would make the CMC remember his name.
The station felt different now. It felt alive with possibility.
And Dominic was ready to seize it.