A Darker Shade Of Black

[Zapp]

"Warning... Oxygen levels at 10%..."

He sighed. The cigar was gone, even the embers having died down. There was no light save for the random flash of charged particles reacting in the depth of the Badlands. Random moments of light revealed the cockpit of a ship and little else. The view-port was to his back.

"Well. I'm recordin' this cuz I figure someone should know. When I die, if anyone ever finds this wreck and bothers to properly loot it instead of just shooting things off the outside, well. If the asteroids don't pummel it to ash, of course. Then at least there'll be something of me left besides a vacuum-mummified corpse.

"I was born twenty seven years ago. 791. A good year, or so I've been told. My life is rather unmentionable. I could confess to any number of misdemeanors and felonies, from stealing a candy bar at the age of four to my first armed robbery at thirteen. My first kill at sixteen. Don't have a taste for that kind of thing. I do what I have to to get by, but I try to limit the blood. Got in space at seventeen. Bloodhound to Mule. Nice, sturdy ship. Three Bloodhounds hold down a transport and take care of the escorts, I roll in and blow off a couple cargo pods, loot what I can, and we all run."

The voice trailed off, as if stuck in the thrall of nostalgia. He picked up again:

"Anyways. Y'know how it is. So here I am. Hold full of filched food rations. Out of fuel, out of power, almost out of air. God it's getting cold in here..."

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