The Strider's primary loading ramp hit the concrete floor with a resounding crash. A cloud of gray dust plumed from the point of impact. Requiem marched down the metal incline with his greatsword resting over his right shoulder. Xavier followed close behind while adjusting the cuffs of his dark jacket.
Harsh yellow floodlights illuminated a sprawling subterranean warehouse filled with scavenged ship parts. Dozens of armed mercenaries paused their dismantling work to stare at the newly arrived dreadnought.
A massive cyborg stepped out from behind a dismantled turbine. He racked the slide of a large plasma rifle.
"You have a lot of nerve bringing a wanted warship into my dock." The cyborg leveled the weapon at Requiem's chest. "The bounty on that hull could buy me a private moon."
Requiem maintained his pace and stopped exactly three paces away from the rifle barrel. "You always were terrible at math, Jack."
