"Everything in order?" Gelos asked as Jordan entered the car and settled across from him with a mute expression that the Martian couldn't quite place.

"Yeah." Jordan nodded. Inputting their destination into the console. "We're going to see Randy."

"Who!?" Gelos squinted hard and jerked his head forward as if to throw his words across the seat.

"To Bronio Medical. Spend some points on a few augments." Jordan fastened his seatbelt and sent Gelos the details before gazing emptily at the oblong buildings beginning to drift by at an increasing pace.

After a brief ride, the pair were dropped off at the city limits of Bronio. Where they embarked on a light jog to the hospital near the city center. Bringing about a strange to feeling to come upon Jordan as he technically entered the building for the first time and waltzed across the wide, seated entry room to a man with a shined head of onyx skin, golden irises and a thick, lustrous beard eyeing the two cautiously from behind an alon wall.

"Uh, hi." Jordan glanced at an augmented name tag that read 'Fred' with an awkward smile. "I'd like to see Randy."

The young man only squinted at Jordan for a while before regaining his professionalism. "I'm sorry, who are you looking for, exactly?"

"Uh." Jordan muttered as he looked through his personnel records. "Dr. Orpheus." He finally stated with a firm nod. "I'd like to get some basic augments installed."

"As would I." Gelos raised his hand from behind Jordan. Cheekily grinning as he waved.

"Alright." Fred droned on. Exchanging glances between the two before continuing on. "What specific augments would you like to get installed?"

"Subdermal Armor, Bone Density Enhancers and a Nanotube Muscular System." Jordan stated.

Fred looked past Jordan to nod at Gelos. "The same for you, as well?"

"Only the first and last." Gelos replied. Triggering Jordan to give him a questionable glance.

"Okay." Fred nodded and gazed somewhere distant for a second before continuing. "Names and proof of identification."

Gelos plucked a few hairs from his scalp and deposited them into a receptacle mounted into the wall. "Igris Gelos."

Jordan first presented the Clan's coat of arms on his left shoulder before showing his right. "Jordan Astros, 27th child of the Clan."

Fred squinted studiously at Jordan's arms for more than a few moments before giving an approving nod. "Pay your fees and wait to be called."

Gelos promptly nodded and trotted off to the rows of seats while Jordan paid off the six-thousand rubies and stayed put. Leaning onto the transparent metal with a curious grin on his face.

"So, why'd you chose to be a receptionist?" Jordan asked.

"Because I get to meet interesting people." Fred grinned. Showcasing perfectly aligned rows of gilded teeth. "Like you. An Astros with a Martian friend."

"First time meeting one of me?" Jordan smirked.

"In the flesh and tin, yes." Fred nodded. Sizing Jordan up once more. "What do you think of the Power of Ganymede?"

"Can't really say." Jordan shrugged. "I've been here what, 3? 4 weeks? And I kinda got sidetracked."

"Well." Fred grunted. "Ganymede is tame compared to the other Galilean Moons, if you ask me. Io and Callisto are two sides of the same coin. But… there's nothing in all the Powers quite like Europa."

'That's what they say.' Jordan thought to himself. "But," he said. "The same could be said for other Powers as well. Pasiphae; Metis; Elara; Himalia; Sinope, each of them are wildly unlike all the other Powers as well."

"True." Fred nodded. "But it doesn't change the fact that Revilla only cares about engineering and racing. Which means that's all Ganymede has to offer. A dull equation for a lowly med-tech like myself."

"So, move." Jordan snorted. "Gather up some points and go to another Power. Nothing's stopping you except your complaints."

"Right." Fred nodded in apparent sarcasm before cranking his neck to the side and yelling, "Ganke!" Prompting a lanky woman with oriental features to waddle through the doors to the back halls.

"Well." Jordan stepped away from Fred's desk with a nod. "If you ever wanna branch out. I'll let you know when I'm headed back to Europa."

"Heh." Fred chuckled. "I may just take you up on that."

"What was that about?" Gelos asked after Jordan returned to his side.

"Recruiting, I guess." Jordan mumbled as he shrugged. "Thinking of what to do for a living besides training and campaigning."

"Recruiting!?" Gelos rocked back in his seat. "For what-"

"Igris!"

Gelos snapped his neck to the back of the room. Towards Fred who was impatiently beckoning Gelos towards the door with a stone tablet-sized hand. "Dr. Boyle will see you now."

'Huh.' Jordan huffed to himself as Gelos stormed away. Silently mouthing somethings about later explanations and other things gone unnoticed. 'I wonder if Randy's the boss of this place?'

Jordan shrugged away any further distractions and passed his waiting time by designing a spear that'd fit his style. After only a couple minutes of perusing historical and recent models, he finally settled on a blueprint he favored. An extensively modified naginata that, unfortunately, his rank couldn't afford. He lost himself in the following minutes after, designing a prototype for a pair of daggers to be mounted into his arms while various names were called across the waiting area.

"Astros!"

Satisfied with the design thus far, Jordan saved his progress before rising from his seat and navigating across the room. Nodding to Fred as he passed through a short corridor and into the office of a particularly grumpy Randy. Who, after filling the ARS with the various components, rather rudely instructed Jordan to strip and lie on the machines bed before leaving Jordan to his own devices. Cursing and mumbling under his breath about wastes of time and stupid operations the entire way out.

Jordan cleared his mind of Randy's apparent frustrations, along with any other distractions as the crescent arm suddenly shifted. Menacingly unfurling bushy combs of thin needles before cascading up his body from sole-to-crown to thread and graft his muscles and skin. Making Jordan feel as if a viscous fluid composed entirely of needles were enveloping him. Drowning him in a swarm of annoying pricks and prods that cumulatively harmonized into a blistering fire that crawled across every square centimeter of his skin.

"Here." Randy tossed a squat pill bottle to Jordan as soon as he entered; post operation. "Take one, once a day until you run out. Your stomach will take care of the rest. And don't believe the rumors. Milk doesn't help."

"Thanks, Randy." Jordan grinned appreciatively as he popped one of the tablets and left with a wave. "Try to feel better, okay?

***

[November 340th, GPY 2. Portunia. Choece, Ganymede. 2321. UGT.]

[Merit: 205]

After their release from the hospital, Jordan decided he was hungry enough to eat and jogged with Gelos to the first of many establishments on their list; a seafood restaurant on the far end of Bronio called the Black Lagoon, with the purpose of making plans for the upcoming year.

A purpose that was immediately curtailed, the moment Jordan's senses made contact with the steaming platter of crimson crustaceans presented before them. Billowing tangy, peppery auras across the room that forcibly appeared in Jordan's augmented reality as a dense, orange cloud.

"Sfo." Gelos mumbled through a mouthful of buttered crabs flesh. "What was the whole, recruiting thing you were talking about?"

"My brother asked if you were inducted into the Clan." Jordan gasped after successfully inhaling mouthful of lobster. "It made me realize that if I'm to work for my family, I need to start recruiting my own litter."

Gelos shook his head in confusion. Blinking rapidly. "Litter?"

"My Dad loves canids." Jordan shrugged with hands full of crab and crayfish. Inadvertently slinging juices and meat scraps in all directions around him. "First, I'd need to know if you'd even want to be inducted."

"Well, it sounds interesting." Gelos vacantly pulled at a crabs leg with a distant stare before returning his eyes to Jordan. Pulling the flesh free and sucking at the joints loudly. "How does it work?"

"You'll be forever affiliated with the Astros Clan. Effectively branding you as a gangster for the rest of your lifetimes." Jordan declared. "In a way, I'll be your boss. But." He sighed. "I don't really care to be in charge of anything. Or anyone."

"As far as I'm concerned, I'm already affiliated with your Clan," Gelos said through his munching. "How do I join?"

"By my approval," Jordan said. "After, you'll bear the coat of arms somewhere on your flesh or iron. It'll be modified to have my number of birth or some other symbol of my choosing. Denoting you as part of my… family." Jordan trailed of the edge of the sentence. Pausing to munch on a hot potato like an apple, in hopes that Gelos wouldn't have an exacerbated reaction.

"But." Jordan added. "That comes later."

While his father set no real prerequisites besides loyalty for the soon to be inducted. Jordan felt as if something were appropriate. At least, that's what his gut told him. And until it told him anything different, Jordan would postpone it Gelos' proper induction.

"We'll continue our training regimen for eighteen weeks." Jordan continued after working through his potato and grabbing yet another lobster. "Rotating between the hab's surface, the axial complexes and the void lands every week. Hopefully we'll find some sort of profession suitable for members of the Clan in the process. It's time I start working properly."

"And how do you, 'work properly,' exactly?" Gelos squinted innocuously.

My father wants people to sneer in angst when they hear the name Astros." Jordan chuckled. "Cause we're the biggest, baddest gang in all the Powers. At least, we're supposed to be. But, everyone mostly does their own thing."

"So." Gelos shrugged. "We just have to find a thing. Not that tall of an order."

The two worked through their massive meal in companionable silence. Jordan took over once Gelos had been filled to bursting. Inviting the attention of more than a few onlookers as Jordan worked through the remainder of their platter and even asked for seconds. Granting him five Merit Points from the impression made on the establishment and its patrons.

"Smuggling?" Gelos turned to Jordan again. The harsh glow of argon signs vibrantly danced in his eyes, exhaustingly adding fuel to his enthusiasm.

Jordan barely shook his head as he kept strolling. His eyes pried to the passing shop fronts and windows to his left. "My father was a smuggler. I want something different."

"Raiding?" Gelos suggested a moment later.

"That's the same as being a thief." Jordan snorted. "So, naturally we'll steal from time to time. But that won't be all we do."

Despite his apparent annoyance, Jordan was surprised, pleased even, to hear his friends willingness to delve into such a degenerate lifestyle. Yet he'd still made sure the Martian knew exactly what he was getting himself into. Associating himself with the clan and becoming a member of Jordan's family was an action that made him almost instantly recognizable across the Powers; much like Jordan was. Unless he actively tried like Arthur, anonymity would become an alien concept.

Still, Gelos insisted that he was more than willing. And Jordan couldn't deny that he'd already proven himself to be capable and knowledgeable enough to bring merit to the Clan. After all, he was his closest friend.

"The golden rule is that we work for no one but ourselves." Jordan stated. "That in itself, is work for the Clan. We just need a niche to fall into. Then, we'll spread our names by whatever means available. And in turn make the Clan ever more infamous."

After a few minutes of silent walking, Jordan stopped before a bicycle shop. Causing him to reminisce on the smooth rapidity of their transit to and from the inner surface.

"Also, if possible." Jordan muttered. Mostly to himself, rather than anyone in particular. "I'd like to find a way to get some information about the Knights of Saturnia." Asking his father was out of the question. Not only was it disrespectful, in Jordan's mind, to attempt to pry information from his father. But he was in the Empire on invitation. And to leak information about the otherwise secretive monarchy could only be perceived as a political offense.

All but leaving Jordan out of foreseeable options.

"Sure, Knight Slayer." Gelos teased sarcastically. "Good luck with that."

Jordan only gave him a menacing side eye before tossing his annoyance aside. "Thanks," he said after a few seconds. Nodding towards the window. "Thinkin' about getting one." He spoke as if it were a calculated decision based on a variety of logical factors. Yet, the only thing running through his mind was a question. Of how fast he could get up to speed on the pedals. Of how far around the habitat he could ride.

***

Gelos had never imagined he'd be living the life of a criminal in the Powers. Living here alone was leagues better than the militant lifestyle that was his birthright. Meeting Jordan and following him around Choece over these past few weeks had reminded Gelos of ignorant and confused he was on many things Galilean. Which only fueled his desire to learn and experience more with the young Astros.

However, he was wise enough to not go into things blindly. And would persistently ask questions about the budding situation. No matter how annoying he may come off to Jordan.

So far he'd learned of Jordan's specific expectations. Rather short that they were. Firstly to design his own implants and weapons and have them manufactured at once, if Gelos were able to. Secondly, to continue living as he already had been.

"So how does this work, exactly?" Gelos craned his neck behind him as he weaved lazily on the trails ahead of Jordan. "Organized crime inside a habitat?"

"Some Powers are more lenient than others." Gelos hadn't even needed to look behind him to see Jordan's habitual shrug with the hand. "A firefight will surely get us punished by Revilla. An old fashioned street brawl should fair just fine though. So long as there's no severe property damage and no one gets killed."

Gelos perked up before wheeling around to face Jordan. "And what happens if someone does get killed?" It was a situation he'd pondered since he'd first learned of the laws. 'What happens when a high ranking Galilean goes on a rampage? When nothing anyone does or says will get them to stay civil, or leave a habitat to Campaign properly?'

"What happens if someone's out of control." Gelos asked.

"First." Jordan raised his finger in a matter-of-fact manner. "A bounty will be placed on them that waves all hostile actions of the pursuers inside the habitat. If the ensuing conflict gets too violent, one of the founders; or even all of them, will show up. The individual will then have to prove to the founders why they think they deserve as much freedom as those who've created these lands in this hellish void." He paused. Gesturing around him. "If they fight the founders. Then they get dropped into Limbo."

"Limbo?" Gelos' eyes widened in curious surprise. "What's that?"

Jordan only stared somewhere above their old, printed houses in the distance. Possibly to the cold light bulbs scattered along the ceiling. Or somewhere beyond the absurdly thick layers of metals, ceramics, dirt and air. "Trapped between floating and falling." He finally mumbled.

Gelos lingered on his bike for a second. Trailing circles in front of their apartment building as he lost himself in thought trying to find meaning in Jordan's words. 'Floating and falling between what-'

Gelos choked on his breath as the comprehension of Jordan's words slapped him across the face like a wet towel. Inducing a menacing shiver to fall down his spine.

"Make sure you sleep well tonight." Jordan called from the bike elevator on the buildings side. "I plan to work us hard come tommorow."

***

The following day marked the beginning of Jordan and Gelos' rigorous training regimen. At first light, they'd begin their physical training routines before practicing in their chosen arts; Jordan the spear, his fist and daggers; Gelos a Gladius, from the early morning until just after artificial sundown. When they'd ride their bicycles around the outskirts of Bronio to survey the surrounding lands. Gathering information on both eating establishments and local organizations. Be they prowlers, vigilantes, mobs or coworkers. Day in and day out. Week after week, they'd train and ride; eat and sleep. Survey and scout. Rotating weekly between the training fields outside their apartment, the Safe Zones and The Talos Community Center with nary a day of rest between.

All for the sake of being the best gangsters they could be.