Little by little, one travels far.

~ J.R.R. Tolkien, 1892 - 1973 A.D.

(Record Intact)

Time: 499 A.E. December 26, 05:25:33 Local

Perspective: JP "Sol" Starwind

Location: New Earth Imperial Order, Delan III, Farshore, The Artifact

A humming noise drones its way into my little corner of hapless oblivion.

I groan.

“Sol! Man, wake the fuck up!” Danther says, his words fuzzy.

“Fucking fuck, Danther,” I grumble as I roll over. “Shit man.”

“Get up, kid,” a voice—a damned familiar voice—says, lazy amused drawl… th-the guy—The Artifact guy.

My blood runs cold and sobriety hits me hard and I scramble, sitting up.

Nausea runs through—

I taste—!

I lean forward to throw up, but the man—Khal—grabs my shoulder with nonchalant force. “Here,” he says and holds up an injector, eyes asking my permission.

I nod, covering my mouth.

He presses it to my neck and I feel the pressure jet force the liquid into my veins.

I lean back, trying to relax. A minute later, the nausea subsides.

Khal gestures to the couch I’m on and Danther scurries, taking a seat.

I swallow.

Staring at him, I try not to let my fear show. I saw him once—he… He’s dangerous—real dangerous, not some bender or thug.

“Mister Starwind, your friend Mister Minth has racked up quite a tab,” he says with the type of toothy grin one might expect to see on a—fuck, what are those things called? My head’s groggy. Shorks, shakes—something like that. “He’s requested your council.”

I look over to Danther.

He’s white, staring down… fuck, he’s in shock.

I turn to Khal. “W-what kind of tab?” I curse myself inside. “—h-how much?”

“E-eight hundred million,” Danther mutters.

I look to Danther and then to Khal. I stand.

Two huge men edge forward, but Khal raises a hand. “That’s a lot of credits,” he says, almost musing the idea—th-the fucking guy.

“What the f— …what are we supposed to do?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“W-what?”

“We,” he says, grinning with what looks like genuine respect—I—no, not now—need to think. “I like that.” He strokes his chin. “Take the rest of the year—it’s the holidays, after all—and ponder your situation. I’ll get in contact with you on the second.” He begins out. “Come time, we’ll settle our accounts.”