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thisDerius · 03-24-2025, 11:06 PM,

826 A.S. - Planet Manhattan - New York System - Liberty Space

The pulse of Liberty ran through Manhattan’s streets, a chaotic blend of commerce, corruption, and desperation. It was the largest trading hub in the colonies, where people and goods moved in and out like clockwork, and if you knew the right people—or had the right amount of credits—there was nothing you couldn't get your hands on. The Liberty Police, Inc. tried to keep order, but everyone knew it was a game. The real players were the smugglers, the corporate magnates, and the underground powerbrokers who thrived in the city’s shadows.

Tia had been here before. She knew the system. First, stop at Rochester, buried in the debris field, get her bearings, and then ride in low through the dark side of the planet. It was the safest way for people like her—the ones who had enemies lurking at every turn. Her target was more than just another name on a list. It was an entire operation—a high-profile underground auction where corrupt Naval officers and high-ranking criminals met in secret. They traded in artifacts, experimental cybernetics, rogue AIs... but worse than all of that, they dealt in people. Slaves, abducted from all over Sirius, stripped of their dignity and sold like livestock. This wasn’t about vengeance anymore. This was about setting things right.

Somewhere on Planet Manhattan - The Infiltration

The auction was invitation-only, and security was airtight. Tia couldn’t just kill someone and take their place—every guest was identified upon arrival, and if she stole an invitation outright, they’d recognize her as an imposter the moment she set foot inside. She needed to be smart. For days, she watched. Studied the movements of the attendees. It wasn’t long before she singled out her mark—a mid-ranking Naval officer with a taste for illicit trade and a habit of walking alone on her way to these exclusive events. Tia waited until she was isolated, trailing her through the back alleys of Midtown. The moment she turned a corner, Tia was on him. A single swift movement—a hand over her mouth, a blade across her throat. She collapsed with a gurgle, his blood soaking into the concrete.

Tia dragged the body into a nearby drainage shaft, stripping her of everything useful—her invitation, his ID chip, and even the faint trace of perfume that clung to her uniform. By the time anyone realized she was missing, Tia would already be inside. The invitation bore a simple phrase: "No hand shall touch the soul of the Jericho." It was the passcode.

Dressed in black, a mask concealing her face like all the others, she walked through the city’s underbelly until she reached the meeting point—an old, seemingly abandoned industrial building on the outskirts of Manhattan’s central district. A rhythmic knock on the reinforced steel door. A small viewport slid open, revealing cold, expressionless eyes. “Password,” the masked figure inside demanded. Tia didn’t hesitate. “No hand shall touch the soul of the Jericho.” The door unlocked with a low thunk, and she stepped inside.

The Auction House

The air inside was thick with the smell of damp stone, old blood, and the acrid scent of fear. The screams of the enslaved echoed through the corridors—muffled but unmistakable. The walls were lined with armed guards, each watching the crowd with disciplined precision. The main hall was filled with figures draped in black, their identities concealed behind masks. This wasn’t just a gathering of criminals—it was an elite syndicate, bound by secrecy and mutual interest. The stage at the front was still covered, but she knew what lay beneath: cages, chains, and the faces of the damned. But before she could burn this place to the ground, she needed her weapons.

The auction house’s storage room was heavily guarded. Moving through the crowd, she subtly brushed against a few of the security personnel, slipping knives and sidearms from their holsters in a sleight of hand that went unnoticed. It was a dangerous gamble, but one she had mastered over the years. Finally, she reached the storage room. Blocking the entrance was a brute of a man, easily over six and a half feet tall, his arms thick with muscle and his face covered by a reinforced tactical mask. She didn’t have time for subtlety.

Launching forward, she drove a knife into his abdomen, using it as leverage to climb onto him. He grunted in pain, but before she could land another strike, he managed to rip her off, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Tia barely rolled in time to avoid a crushing stomp. The fight was brutal. She was faster, but he was a wall of muscle. A single well-placed hit could end her. Ducking beneath a wild swing, she slid between his legs, slicing deep into the tendons at the back of his knees. The brute let out a strangled growl as he collapsed. She didn’t hesitate. A final, merciless stab to the base of his skull silenced him for good. Stealing his keycard, she dragged his body into the room and shut the door behind her.

The Setup

Inside, she found exactly what she needed. Weapons, explosives, cybernetics—everything that could tear this place apart. Working quickly, she planted charges throughout the storage room, the auction stage, the hallways, and anywhere else she could find something volatile. Before leaving, she positioned a small surveillance camera near the stage. She needed to know exactly when the auction began.

Then, it was time to free the prisoners.

Moving swiftly, she fought her way through the lower levels, her blade silencing guards before they could raise the alarm. Blood stained the cold steel floors as she cut through them, one by one. The facility had finally gone on high alert, but it was already too late. She reached the holding cells. Behind rusted bars, the captives stared at her—hollow eyes, resigned to their fate. But not tonight. “Is this all of you?” she asked. Shaken nods. They were too afraid to speak.

Tia didn’t waste time. She disabled the locks and ushered them forward, clearing a path to the exit. The guards outside were already scrambling, but she was faster. With ruthless efficiency, she cut them down, guiding the prisoners to safety through a back exit.

She didn’t wait to see them escape.

By the time the first guests entered the auction room, she was already in position. The masked figures gathered, unaware that their last moments had already begun. With a slow, deliberate motion, she pulled the detonator from her pocket.

No hesitation. No mercy.

She pressed the button.

The Firestorm

The explosion tore through the building like a vengeful god. Shockwaves sent debris flying in every direction, flames consuming the very foundation of the syndicate’s operations. The underground auction house—their trade, their secrets, their crimes—was reduced to nothing but fire and ruin. By the time Liberty authorities arrived, the only thing they found was a pile of smoldering wreckage and a trail of bodies. The few survivors they managed to question could only describe the attacker as a phantom—a shadow that moved with deadly precision. Tia was already gone, disappearing into the neon haze of Manhattan’s underbelly.

The hunt had only just begun. Her next target awaited. Kusari was next.

827 A.S. - Planet New Tokyo - Kusari Space

Kusari was an entirely different beast compared to Liberty. In Liberty, Tia could rely on subterfuge, slipping through the cracks of its corrupt underground. But here, in Kusari, everything was precise, controlled, and monitored. Stealth wasn’t just an option—it was a necessity. She had come prepared. A glide suit would be her key to infiltration. Rather than fighting her way up from the bottom, she would start from the top and work her way down, like a blade carving through flesh. Her target: a Zaibatsu high-rise in the heart of New Tokyo. A gleaming tower of glass and steel, it loomed over the neon-drenched streets below. Inside, in a conference room near the upper floors, sat the executives—men who had made lucrative deals with Joker and Arlov. Smuggling, human trafficking, and black-market cybernetics all flowed through their hands like currency. They had profited off the suffering of countless innocents.

The floors above the conference room weren’t empty. They were filled with assassins—cybernetically enhanced warriors, faster and deadlier than any ordinary human. Joker had been busy these past few years. Tia stood at the edge of an open shuttle bay, the wind howling around her as the shuttle hovered above the skyscraper. The rain poured heavily, drenching the city in an endless storm. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and jumped. Her glide suit unfurled, catching the wind as she descended toward the towering structure. The city lights blurred below her, neon signs flickering like ghostly phantoms in the storm. With precise control, she angled herself toward the rooftop helipad, landing with a soft roll. The moment her feet touched the surface, she tore away the suit, letting it drift away into the abyss below. She activated the shuttle’s autopilot, commanding it to return to its previous course. No loose ends.

The rooftop door was locked. No surprise there. A simple bypass with a hacking device, and she was inside. But the moment she stepped in, she knew she wasn’t alone.

A row of figures stood in the dimly lit stairwell, their faces obscured by masks, their bodies poised with deadly precision. Each one wielded a short blade, gleaming in the pale light. One of them spoke, his voice cold and emotionless. "Onore wa dare da? Koko de nani o shite iru?" (Who are you? What are you doing here?) Tia smirked, drawing her own blades in response. "Dare demo nai. Tada, onore-tachi o koroshi ni kita dake da." (I’m no one. I just came here to kill you.)

And then, they attacked.

The assassins moved like flowing water, their strikes swift and precise, but Tia had been raised by the Golden Chrysanthemums—she knew their techniques well. The clash of steel against steel rang through the stairwell, echoing amidst the relentless downpour outside. The rain had flooded the rooftop entrance, water rising to their knees. Each movement sent ripples through the shallow pool, turning it crimson with the blood of the fallen. One by one, they fell, their bodies sinking beneath the surface. But not without cost—Tia felt the sting of cuts across her arms and torso, fresh wounds mixing with the rain. She didn't have time to stop.

With a deep breath, she wrapped quick bandages around her wounds and pressed on. The stairwell led her straight to the executive floor. The moment she emerged, gunfire erupted. Unlike the assassins, these men carried firearms, and they wasted no time in opening fire. Bullets tore through walls, shattering glass and sending paper flying into the air like a chaotic storm. Tia ducked behind a pillar, reloading her own weapons. The firefight turned the pristine corporate office into a warzone, bodies hitting the floor one by one as she pushed forward. Finally, she reached the conference room.

The heavy oak doors burst open with a powerful kick, revealing a room filled with well-dressed executives, their faces frozen in shock. The man seated at the head of the table, a refined-looking older gentleman, stood abruptly. "Kore wa ittai nani ga okotte iru no da?!" (What the hell is going on?!) Tia tilted her head, a smirk creeping onto her face. She nodded toward the window. "Fukushū da." (Revenge.) The executives turned just in time to see the shuttle outside—barreling toward them at full speed. By the time they turned back, Tia was already gone.

The impact shook the entire skyscraper. The reinforced structure held, but the conference room was obliterated, its windows blown out as fire and debris rained down onto the city below. The shuttle, now a flaming wreck, broke loose and tumbled down the side of the building, crashing onto the streets far below. By the time the Kusari authorities arrived, there was no sign of her. The news would speak of the attack for years to come.

Tia took the time to recover. Bretonia was next, and she knew that the games of nobles were unlike anything she had faced before.

828 A.S. - Planet Cambridge - Bretonia Space

Tia stood in front of a grand mirror, staring at the reflection that barely felt like her own. The dress clung elegantly to her figure, a deep black fabric with crimson accents flowing down like rivulets of blood. She shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tracing the embroidery near her waist. "Black and red. It really seems to merge well with my hair... I like it. Are you sure I will be able to move freely in this? I do hope my weapons can be concealed well." The tailor, an elderly woman with a sharp eye for detail, gave a knowing smile as she made the final adjustments. "Miss, everything is tailored to your needs. You'll move like the wind, and as for concealment—let’s just say, my work is highly sought after in certain circles." Tia nodded, exhaling slowly. Never before had she worn something so luxurious, so foreign to her usual utilitarian attire. But tonight, she was not a killer—at least not until the moment came. Tonight, she was an esteemed guest, mingling with the highest echelon of Bretonian society, wrapped in silk and secrecy.

The estate was nothing short of breathtaking. Grand chandeliers cast golden light across the ballroom, illuminating a sea of nobles adorned in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the subtle undertones of aged wine. The marble floors gleamed underfoot, each step echoing faintly through the vast hall. Tia arrived on the arm of a Duke—a man she had once aided during her travels, though she found his presence more of a necessity than a pleasure. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his deep blue attire spoke of old money and prestige. "Remember," he murmured as they entered, "this is about patience, precision. Your targets will slip away from the crowd eventually. Watch, wait, and when the time comes, make sure no one sees you leave." Tia merely nodded, offering him a charming yet empty smile as they stepped into the grand hall. The moment she crossed the threshold, she became someone else entirely. She was no longer Tia Stormclaw, the relentless hunter—tonight, she was a woman of class and mystery, her presence a carefully crafted illusion. Navigating the aristocratic world required more than a sharp blade—it required tact. She engaged in trivial gossip, exchanged pleasantries, and endured insufferable discussions about art and politics. All the while, her mind worked tirelessly, keeping track of the ones she was here for. Her targets—three high-ranking Bretonian officials known for their clandestine dealings—moved subtly through the crowd, acknowledging only those within their inner circle. She watched them carefully, waiting for the moment they would retreat to a more private setting.

Then, a distraction.

"Would you grant me this dance?" A noble’s voice cut through her focus, and before she could refuse, a firm yet gentle hand reached for hers. She tensed slightly, caught off guard. A tall, well-groomed man stood before her, his deep green eyes filled with curiosity. He bowed slightly. "Charles Sharp IV. A pleasure to meet you, my lady. And you are...?" Tia hesitated for a fraction of a second before recovering. "I would rather keep my name a secret until you prove yourself in this dance, Sire." She cringed inwardly at her own words but kept her expression poised. Charles merely chuckled, leading her gracefully onto the dance floor. The music swelled, and she followed his steps, her movements stiff at first, but soon adapting to the rhythm. For all her skill in combat, dance was something she had never trained for. She felt exposed in a way she never had before. "You move like a woman accustomed to the battlefield rather than the ballroom," Charles observed, his grip firm yet respectful. "Perhaps the two are not so different," Tia replied smoothly, masking her discomfort. He studied her with keen interest but did not press further. As the dance ended, Tia excused herself quickly, bowing slightly before vanishing back into the crowd.

She found the Duke near a grand staircase, his eyes flickering toward the upper floors. "Have you seen them?" she whispered. "Second floor, third door to the left. If you hurry, you might get there in time to do your job." He raised his glass in a silent toast, his words barely audible over the music. "Disappear when it's done." Tia wasted no time. Moving through the corridors, she spotted a young woman with vibrant purple hair pushing a trolley laden with fine wines and delicacies. "You don’t mind if I take that for you, do you?" Tia asked smoothly. The woman exhaled in relief. "Damn. Be my guest. I am tired of this shit anyway. I’m quitting tonight. Can’t stand these nobles—walking around like they’ve got sticks up their asses." Tia smirked. "Understandable."

As the woman disappeared into the crowd, Tia carefully laced the food and drinks with a fast-acting poison before proceeding to the meeting room. She knocked softly, keeping her posture neutral. The door creaked open, revealing an older gentleman with sharp eyes. "What’s this? You’re not the usual server." "A young lady with purple hair gave me her tray. She’s quitting," Tia replied smoothly. His expression darkened, concern flashing across his face. "Damn fool girl. Excuse me." He stepped out, leaving the door ajar. Tia entered, placing the trolley down, careful not to linger. Five men stood inside, engaged in hushed conversation. As she stepped back into the hallway, she counted down the seconds.

She did not wait to hear their choking gasps or panicked shouts. By the time the poison took hold, she was already outside, slipping into a waiting shuttle, vanishing into the night. The following day, news of a mass poisoning at the estate spread across Cambridge. Reports spoke of high-profile casualties, mysterious disappearances, and whispered suspicions. But no one could trace the culprit. No one saw the silent predator who had moved among them.

Tia allowed herself a small, fleeting smile. The nobility games were over.

Next stop: Rheinland. And there, she would bring the fire and the smoke.

829 A.S. - Planet New Berlin - Rheinland Space

New Berlin was a city of steel and smoke, its skyline dominated by towering industrial complexes that choked the air with smog. The bitter cold was unrelenting, seeping through every layer of fabric, while the howling wind carried with it a chill that could bite through bone. Factories lined the roads, belching out thick plumes of condensed gas, their purpose clear—war. It had taken Tia a year to prepare for this attack, and this one would be the worst of them all. A hidden factory, deeply entrenched within the heart of Rheinland’s manufacturing sector, was Joker’s crown jewel. It produced advanced weaponry for his mercenaries, along with prototype war machines that, if deployed in full force, could spell disaster for anyone who stood against him. A nuclear strike would have been the simplest solution, but it would have taken out countless civilians—something Tia was not willing to risk. She needed to bring this place down from within, piece by piece. From her vantage point atop an abandoned loading crane, she surveyed the factory compound through her scope. Workers bustled about, loading crates of weapons onto transport ships, oblivious to the predator watching them. Then, she saw it—a sleek, dark-painted Sabre-class fighter. Joker’s ship. And right beside it, Joker himself, clad in his usual flamboyant coat, standing among the workers as if he were just another man on the job. Calm, untouchable, orchestrating destruction with a mere conversation. Tia’s fingers twitched over the trigger. One shot. Just one, and it would all be over. But she forced herself to breathe, to focus. The risk was too great. If she missed, the entire facility would go on high alert, and she’d lose her one chance to dismantle it all. She remained still, watching as Joker boarded his ship and disappeared into the night sky. Now was the time to move.

She made her way down to the icy road, blending into the darkness. Soon, a transport convoy rumbled into view, its wheels crunching over the frozen terrain. Timing her movements, she sprinted alongside one of the cargo trucks and leapt onto its undercarriage, gripping the metal bars tightly. The wind whipped against her face as the truck sped through the security checkpoint, carrying her straight into the beast’s belly. Inside the loading bay, workers began unloading crates of ammunition. The moment the cargo doors swung open, Tia struck. Smoke bombs rolled onto the floor, erupting into thick, suffocating plumes. Chaos erupted as confused shouts turned into gunfire. Moving like a wraith through the fog, she took down mercenaries with precise shots, her silencer muffling the death cries. The plan was simple—cut through waves of enemies, reach the main reactor, plant the explosives, and escape before the whole place went up in flames. As she carved her way through the facility, explosions rocked the corridors. Grenades, makeshift charges, and redirected enemy fire all contributed to the growing carnage. Bodies littered the floor, blood pooling over the cold steel grates. She moved with ruthless efficiency, her combat instincts honed by years of war. Then, the mercenaries deployed their trump card—mechs.

Towering humanoid machines, equipped with rotary cannons and missile pods, stomped into view. Tia barely had time to dive for cover as a hail of bullets tore through the air, shredding walls and equipment alike. She needed to get in close. Using the wreckage around her, she weaved between gunfire, closing the distance. A well-placed shot from her Iridium Magnum cracked the reinforced glass of one of the mech’s cockpits, momentarily disorienting the pilot. That was all she needed. With a fluid motion, she climbed onto the machine’s back, planting an explosive charge at its weakest point. She leapt away just as the detonation ripped through the war machine, sending it crashing to the ground in a heap of molten metal and shattered hydraulics.

Finally, she reached the reactor chamber—only to find someone waiting for her. Or rather, something.

A humanoid mechanical unit stood before the reactor, its stance eerily identical to hers. It moved with a fluidity that machines should not possess, perfectly mimicking her posture. Confusion flickered in her mind before the loudspeakers crackled to life. "Do you like it?" Joker’s voice oozed amusement. "I made it in your image. This one, though, does not have the inconvenient desire to kill me like you do. And once it’s finished with you, I’ll make more. The war profits will be unspeakable." Tia's grip on her blades tightened, her jaw clenched. Joker was far away now, safely off-world, beyond her reach once again. But this abomination—this insult—stood before her, challenging her existence. She had no choice but to fight. She lunged forward, blades flashing. Every strike she delivered was met with a perfect counter, as if she were fighting a reflection of herself. The machine was fast, relentless, calculating every move she made. Tia took damage, her body bruised and cut. It was infuriating. Joker had replicated her skills too well.

Then, she smirked.

She had spent years fighting alongside warriors from all corners of Sirius, adapting and evolving her techniques. Joker had only copied the Tia he knew. But she was more than that. She shifted her stance—switching from her usual precision to a more unorthodox style, one borrowed from street brawlers and savage bar fights. The mech faltered, unable to predict her sudden shift. She pressed the advantage, striking from unexpected angles, throwing in feints and wild swings that defied logic.

The machine couldn’t keep up. A final, brutal strike sent her blade slicing through its core, severing its circuits. Sparks erupted as the imitation collapsed, lifeless. Tia exhaled sharply, spitting onto the cold floor. "Got a few bugs that need fixing there," she muttered before turning to the reactor.

She set the charges, activating the countdown. With one last look at the wreckage she had left behind, she turned and ran, sprinting back through the ruined factory. The entire structure trembled as more explosives ignited, sending plumes of fire and debris skyward. She barely made it into a transport truck before the facility was engulfed in a massive detonation. As the inferno raged behind her, she exhaled. Another of Joker’s strongholds reduced to ash. But he was still out there. And so was she.

Next stop: Bering.

829 A.S. - Bering System - Border Worlds

Bering had never been a place for the weak-willed. It was a no-man’s-land, a buffer between the powerful houses of Liberty and Rheinland, infested with every kind of scoundrel, pirate, and desperate soul trying to carve out an existence in the void. The shattered remains of Freeport 2 still drifted in silence, a grim reminder of the system’s lawlessness. Tia had no illusions about the danger of her mission—she wasn’t just hunting; she was baiting the hunters. Joker, ever the paranoid mastermind, had anticipated her rampage and placed a bounty on her head. He didn’t send amateurs, either—he hired some of the deadliest bounty hunters credits could buy. But unlike Joker, they didn’t know her. They thought they were the predators, the ones in control. That was their first mistake. Tia had tracked them to an isolated gathering point deep within Bering’s asteroid fields, far from trade lanes or any possible backup. A rundown station, half-embedded in a massive asteroid, served as their base—a forgotten husk from some long-dead mining operation. It was perfect.

Instead of sneaking in for a ground assault, she chose another approach. She let them see her. Let them think she was vulnerable. She cut her engines just outside their sensor range, her ship drifting like a lifeless husk. The battered hull of her vessel made it easy for them to assume she was damaged, perhaps even running low on fuel. She was a wounded animal—an easy kill. Or so they thought. Her sensors picked up five ships scrambling from the station, coming straight for her. Fighters, fast and well-armed, each one modified to the tastes of its pilot. She smirked. She recognized their formations, their eagerness. She had fought their kind before—reckless, overconfident, predictable.

“Five against one,” she muttered, gripping the controls. “Almost seems unfair.” The lead hunter, piloting a sleek, black Scimitar-class fighter, opened a channel. “Tia Stormclaw,” he sneered, his voice laced with arrogance. “You’re a long way from safety.” “So are you,” she replied with a smirk before cutting the comms.

With a flick of her wrist, she reignited her engines, sending her ship into a controlled spin toward the asteroid field. The bounty hunters gave chase, just as she expected. They thought they had her cornered, but they were chasing a ghost through a graveyard. Tia weaved between the jagged rocks of the asteroid belt, using the field’s natural hazards as both shield and weapon. She flipped her ship, opening fire with precise bursts from her cannons. The first hunter learned the hard way that Bering’s rocks were as deadly as any missile—his ship slammed into a drifting asteroid, vanishing in a ball of fire.

“Four left.”

The remaining hunters adjusted, spreading out to cut off her escape routes. But Tia was already two steps ahead. She flipped a switch, deploying a spread of mines into the field. A second hunter, too focused on pursuit, flew straight into the trap. A flash of white-hot fire engulfed his ship as the mines tore through his shields and hull.

“Three.”

The others wised up, keeping their distance as they fired from range, trying to box her in. Tia kept moving, her instincts sharper than theirs. She let them think they had the advantage, luring them into tighter formations within the field. Then she twisted her ship in a hard reverse maneuver, facing them head-on. Her cannons roared. One ship took direct hits to the cockpit, shattering the canopy and sending the pilot’s body spiraling into the void. The other two flinched, breaking formation—exactly what she wanted. She gunned her engines, closing the distance on the fourth pilot, shredding his hull with a hail of plasma before he could react.

“One left.”

The last bounty hunter, now realizing the tables had turned, tried to flee back to the station. Tia wasn’t about to let that happen. She fired off an EMP torpedo, watching as his ship’s systems flickered and died. He was stranded. Helpless. She opened a comm channel. “Tell Joker what happened here.” The hunter, his voice trembling, begged for mercy. “P-please! I—”

Tia cut the channel and fired. A single burst. A clean kill. Silence fell over the battlefield. Five against one. Just how she liked it.

With her job done, she let out a deep breath and set a course away from the wreckage. This had been just a detour. The real mission lay ahead.

Her next stop was a place where most Sirians never returned from. A place ruled by fanatics and warriors hardened by generations of war.

Planet Jiangxi. Coalition space.

831 A.S. - Omega-52 - Planet Jiangxi - Coalition Space

Coalition space was a place where no sane person would willingly go. Revolutionaries, communists, and hardline warlords ruled these sectors with iron fists, and outsiders were either captured, executed, or worse. It was an isolated bastion of ideology, a place where the past had been repurposed into an unyielding future of war and conquest. Tia knew this well. The only way in was through sheer patience and meticulous planning, and it had taken her two years to prepare for this infiltration. Transports regularly traveled to and from Planet Jiangxi, hauling supplies, munitions, and recruits. Tia secured her passage aboard one such vessel, buried deep in the cargo bay beneath stacks of steel crates. The journey down was rough, turbulence shaking the entire vessel as it pierced the thick atmosphere. She had only six hours on the surface—six hours to locate and eliminate her target before extraction became impossible.

The surface of Jiangxi was bleak—barren landscapes interrupted by industrial settlements, massive concrete bunkers built into the rock, and propaganda banners waving in the wind. Every settlement was heavily guarded, and Coalition soldiers patrolled the streets with unwavering discipline. She couldn't afford to be seen. As soon as she disembarked, she melted into the shadows, navigating through alleyways and ducking behind dilapidated structures. Her target wasn’t on the surface. Deep below, in a hidden facility, a warlord was plotting a coup—one that would shift the balance of power in Coalition space and, if left unchecked, grant Joker unrestricted access to a new war economy. The deal had already been struck. The warlord was receiving shipments of experimental weaponry in exchange for loyalty to Joker’s grand plan. If he succeeded, Sirius would face yet another bloodthirsty tyrant with Joker whispering in his ear.

Tia had no intention of letting that happen.

She moved swiftly, gathering intel through cautious interactions. Careful questioning led her to an underground tunnel network, a remnant of past wars, now repurposed as a covert entryway into the facility. Navigating the tunnels was another challenge—dimly lit, patrolled by armed guards, and filled with hazards. She kept her movements calculated, eliminating lone sentries with swift, silent strikes before stashing their bodies in the darkness. When she finally reached the warlord’s command center, she found him alone—a rare opportunity. The facility, cold and sterile, was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaotic world above. The warlord stood before a table littered with blueprints and encrypted communications, his massive frame nearly mechanical. He was more machine than man, augmented beyond recognition. Cybernetic limbs reinforced with heavy armor plating, integrated weaponry built into his exoskeleton, and crimson optics that glowed menacingly in the dim light.

Tia’s instincts flared. This wouldn’t be an easy fight. A deep, guttural sound came from the warlord’s throat—an unintelligible muttering followed by the whirring of servos as he raised his arm, a minigun snapping into place. Tia moved the moment she saw his trigger finger twitch. A wall of bullets shredded through the air, tearing apart control panels and sending sparks flying as she dove for cover. She had to think fast. Head-on combat was suicide. But as she scanned the room, she noticed something—fractures in the facility’s structure. The gunfire wasn’t just destroying machinery; it was compromising the foundation. If she could turn his firepower against him, she could bring the whole place down on his head. Dodging another hail of bullets, she scrambled up a pile of debris, pulling a grenade from her belt. With a quick flick of her wrist, she sent it flying towards a weakened section of the ceiling. The explosion was deafening. The structure groaned, cracks splintering across the walls as metal beams twisted and crumbled. The warlord staggered, momentarily distracted as debris rained down around him.

Then the entire ceiling collapsed.

Tia barely had time to react before she was swallowed by dust and rubble. She hit the ground hard, coughing as she clawed her way through the wreckage. Miraculously, she had avoided the brunt of the collapse—just a few scratches and bruises. But she was trapped. Through the thick dust, she spotted something—a drill cannon, half-buried in the wreckage. It had been torn from the warlord’s exoskeleton in the collapse. That was her way out. Gritting her teeth, she pried it free and fired it into the side wall, boring a small but sufficient escape route. Each second felt like an eternity as she tunneled her way to the surface, hoping the structure wouldn’t give way and bury her alive. When she finally emerged, the sky above looked almost peaceful, as if the chaos below had never happened.

No one noticed her. No one questioned the destruction. In Coalition space, such events were routine. With quiet efficiency, she made her way back to the transport docks, blending into the crowd of workers. Within minutes, she was off-planet, bound for Freeport 1 where her ship awaited.

This mission was over. But her war was far from done.

Next stop: The Taus.

833 A.S. - System Tau-23 - Tau Space

Two years of meticulous planning led Tia to the location of a secret base hidden deep within Tau-23’s Niobium field. It was a stronghold belonging to Nikolai Arlov, heavily fortified and well-guarded by mercenaries and automated defenses. Taking it alone would have been suicide. This time, she needed allies. She sent out a call on Java Station, discreetly spreading word to those who had suffered under Joker’s influence or harbored grudges against Nikolai. The response was greater than she had expected. Several ex-Blackguard members, independent mercenaries, and old allies arrived to pledge their support. But among them, one face stood out, catching Tia completely off guard—Ella Hayes, the brilliant engineer of The Alexandria. Tia felt her breath hitch. It had been over a decade since she last saw Ella, and she had long assumed her lost to time. Yet here she was, standing before her, arms crossed, smirking. “I can’t believe it. You came. I thought you were done for good...” Tia muttered, her voice quivering from unexpected joy. Ella shrugged, stepping forward. “I might have heard from a certain Duke that you needed help. And let's be honest, what would you do without your favorite engineer?” Tia couldn’t help but smile as Ella pulled her into a tight embrace. Twelve years had passed, yet in this moment, it felt like only yesterday that they had fought side by side. Much had changed, but their shared resolve remained the same.

With everyone gathered, Tia stood before them—fifteen warriors, a mix of pilots and ground operatives, all ready to strike a decisive blow against Joker’s operation. “The base is hidden in the Niobium field,” she began, pulling up a holographic display of the asteroid cluster. “It’s protected by a mix of automated defenses and manned patrols. We don’t have the numbers for a prolonged fight, so we hit them fast and hard. We split into two squads—ten will engage in direct combat, drawing their forces out, while a squad of five makes bombing runs on the docking bays and defense turrets. Once the outer defenses are softened up, we dock and take control from the inside. Quick and clean, no drawn-out battles. We go in, cripple the base, take what we need, and get the hell out. We all clear?” Murmurs of agreement echoed through the gathered warriors. The plan was dangerous, but there was no turning back now.

They launched in silence, cloaking devices activated as they traversed the dense asteroid field. As soon as the base came into view, the ships decloaked in perfect unison, unleashing hell. The defenders scrambled in disarray, their initial confusion giving Tia’s team the upper hand. Pulse cannons and missile salvos tore through the enemy ships. Explosions bloomed like fireflowers in the darkness. The five bombers maneuvered with precision, sending torpedoes into the station’s automated turrets and hangar bays. Fires erupted across the structure, alarms blaring through its corridors.

With an opening secured, the team docked, immediately engaging in a ground assault. The halls were lined with opposition, but the attackers moved with lethal efficiency. Tia led the charge, her rifle spitting fire as they cut through resistance. They weren’t here for a prolonged firefight—every second counted. A small group split off to search the base’s inner vaults, uncovering a treasure trove of stolen funds and encrypted data. The money was divided amongst the warriors as spoils of war, but the real prize was the intelligence. Tia skimmed the files hastily, her breath catching when she came across a particular set of coordinates.

A secret alien ruin. On Malta. Joker had been working on something there. Something big. Tia's blood ran cold. She had expected to find remnants of Nikolai’s dealings, but this was something else entirely. Whatever Joker was after, it was enough to justify an entire secret operation.

The mission had been a success, but the weight of the revelation loomed over her. She could not drag her allies further into this. Joker and Nikolai were her targets. No one else needed to suffer for her vendetta. Ella saw the look in Tia’s eyes and knew what she was thinking. She stepped in front of her, blocking her way. “You’re not seriously thinking of going alone.” “I have to.” “Like hell you do!” Ella snapped. “Tia, we just got back together. After years. I’m not losing you again.” Tia clenched her jaw, conflicted. But her mind was made up. “This isn’t your fight. It never was. You’ve done enough. All of you.”

Ella’s eyes searched hers for something, but all she found was unyielding resolve. With a frustrated sigh, she stepped aside. “Fine. But you better come back, damn it.” Tia didn’t answer. She simply turned and walked away, leaving her past behind as she set her sights on the Omicrons.

Planet Malta awaited.

824 A.S. - Planet Malta - Omicron Alpha - Outcast Space

No one could have predicted the horror that awaited Tia Stormclaw on Malta. No sane person would create an abomination like the one she encountered deep within the alien ruins buried beneath the planet’s surface. Joker had been there, but he did not leave without ensuring someone—or something—was left behind to watch over the site. This ruin was not just a relic; it was the hub of Joker’s operations, a core piece of whatever grand design he had in mind. He had trusted almost no one with its protection, and for good reason. Reaching the planet itself had been the easy part. Smugglers came and went from Malta with their cargo of Cardamine, and its syndicates were accustomed to new faces, as long as they didn't linger. But locating the ruins without arousing suspicion was another matter entirely. The Outcasts were fiercely protective of their planet’s secrets, unwilling to share anything with outsiders, least of all an ex-Blackguard hunting a phantom. Tia knew she needed help.

The dim blue glow of a flickering hologram illuminated Tia’s face as she stared at the image of John Derius Guerra. His features were familiar but changed, his body augmented beyond recognition. Two additional cybernetic arms adorned his torso, replacing what he had lost in the years since their last encounter. His expression was colder, more detached. “I do have some old planetary scans that might help you,” Derius said, his voice more artificial than she remembered. “But I feel like you’re walking into a suicide mission. I’m in Kusari—I can’t help you from here.” Tia scoffed. “I don’t need you here. Just send the scans.” Derius exhaled through his nose, his metallic fingers tapping against the console in front of him. “Fine. I’m sending the results now. The ruins you’re looking for are buried deep, but the data should guide you. Be careful. Something about this doesn’t feel right.” Tia glanced at her holopad as the data streamed in, her eyes scanning the map of the underground networks. A moment of silence lingered between them before she spoke again. “You seem different.” “Eight long years,” he murmured. “It takes a toll. I’m fine.” Tia wasn’t convinced, but she let it go. “Look,” Derius continued, “I have people to help right now. You should reconsider this.” “I won’t.” “I figured as much.” He sighed. “Then at least stay alive.”

The transmission cut, leaving Tia alone in the cold silence of her ship. She exhaled sharply and focused on the data. The coordinates were clear. It was time.

The Descent

Days passed as she navigated Malta’s treacherous landscapes, checking ruin after ruin. Most were abandoned or repurposed by Outcasts for their own purposes—underground gathering places, research outposts, or smuggler dens. Nothing led to Joker’s hub. She had almost given up hope when she found the last location on her list, buried deep within the mountains. “It’s always the last one,” she muttered, checking her weapons before setting off on foot. The descent was brutal. She scaled crumbling cliffs and navigated treacherous tunnels, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint, acrid residue of Cardamine. The deeper she went, the more unnatural it felt. The walls pulsed with a faint, sickly purple glow. Alien technology. She had found it.

And then she saw him.

A lone figure stood in the center of the chamber, surrounded by consoles and strange, organic-looking structures. His posture was unnatural, his head tilting as if he had already sensed her arrival. When his eyes met hers, she knew. He was a Nomad host. Her muscles tensed, instincts screaming at her to run, but it was too late. The air crackled, and before she could react, the first shot rang out.

The Battle

Tia dove behind a pillar as rounds whizzed past her. She returned fire, but the Host moved impossibly fast, evading with unnatural grace. A voice whispered in the back of her mind—faint, insidious. Her thoughts clouded, her vision blurred. The Nomad’s influence was already inside her head. Shit. She needed to think. But thinking was impossible under the growing weight in her skull. Her heartbeat thundered, but her hands felt slow, her breath shallow. The Host advanced, firing methodically, forcing her deeper into cover. She had to move. Had to act. Pain. She needed pain.

Gritting her teeth, Tia unsheathed one of her blades and plunged it into her side. White-hot agony surged through her, cutting through the mental haze. Her grip tightened on her shotgun. Now. She moved fast—smokescreen deployed, flashbangs tossed. The room exploded in chaos. The Host recoiled, temporarily blinded, and that was all she needed. Tia charged, shotgun raised, firing into his center mass. He staggered but did not fall. She had seconds. She drew her second blade and struck, cutting deep into his flesh. A guttural, inhuman sound tore from his throat, but his strength was undiminished.

Then the kick came. A brutal, monstrous force slammed into her wounded side, sending her crashing against the rock wall. A sickening crack. Pain exploded through her body, a bloody cough escaping her lips as she forced herself up, using her blade as a crutch. She could barely stand, but so could the Host.

The Host wavered, his body broken, but the Nomad inside still fought to keep him moving. His glowing eyes flickered with something resembling recognition, as if realizing, too late, that he was losing. Tia spat blood onto the floor. “Who has time for fair play?” The shotgun’s roar echoed through the chamber. The Host’s body crumpled, lifeless. The Nomad inside twitched once before going still. She had won.

Tia spent the next hour destroying every console, every device, every trace of Joker’s presence in the ruin. Whatever he had been planning here, it was over. She didn’t care what she had missed—she had ensured it would never be used again. Clutching her bandaged side, she staggered back to her ship, barely making it off-planet before her body gave out. Freeport 11 awaited her, its distant lights promising safety, if only for a little while.

825 A.S. - Freeport 11

Months passed. Tia’s wounds healed, but the weight of her past did not lessen. Sitting in her quarters, she finally opened her log, fingers hesitating over the keys before she began typing:

Quote:From station to station, from planet to planet—nine years of running, nine years of killing, nine years...

The bloodbath was over. But her war wasn’t.

Joker and Nikolai Arlov were still out there. And now, she would wait.

Patiently.

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