Punching out of FTL cruise Mark watched the Towo station for a few moments as he morphed his vocal cords around before he picked up the radio
"Towo station, this is Crow#4416 requesting permission for docking"
Mark had left Towo station for about 4 hours doing which he had visited the SubNet relay array near the system's star and sent out a wide range unencrypted messages that simply contained a seemingly random string of 16 million numbers
'Hopefully my old friend won't be too angry'
A few moments passed before a few monotone beeps echoed out over the radio, the following moments the ships' communications systems translated the message from the Towo station automated flight control system though a text-to-speech monotone voice
"Crow#4416, docking request granted, hanger 2, pad 43"
'Hanger 2, hanger 2… That works for manoeuvre pattern 12…'
Mark let out a sigh before he picked up the hogtied owner of Crow#4416 whom he had pacified a few hours earlier when he seized his ship and snapped his neck before he untied him and threw his corpse towards the back of the cockpit before he turned the ship towards hanger 2
'Easy… Around now…'
As he headed towards hangar 2, Mark utilized his direct control over the Crow and overloaded several circuits, triggering a cascade that immediately opened the right side manoeuvre thrusters sending the ship flying sideways, after a moment Mark yelled out over the radio
"Mayday, mayday, mayday! Thruster malfunction, I have limited control!"
The panic in Mark's masked voice was clear as he 'panicked' trying to wrestle the ship back under control, with the ship 'out of control' and Mark calling out the ships malfunction clearly over the radio most flight controllers would make the same decision the automated flight controller made as a series of beeps echoed out of the radio before the TTS echoed out inside the compact cockpit
"Flight control copies, tugboats dispatched. Crow#4416 power down your drive and await rescue"
The small ship continued tumbling along its 'random path' as Mark 'struggled' with the controls for a few moments longer before Mark applied his control over the Ficer crystal again and blew another few circuits which opened the thrust of the main engine fully sending the Crow screaming towards a recent, external addition to Towo station exterior, the atmospheric control center for the section of Towo station occupied by the Gila cartel
Having declared an emergency and shown himself 'unable to' control his craft Mark had avoided getting blown to smithereens by Towo station's automated defence system that usually vaporized everything from loose debris to would-be smugglers that tried to approach a hanger without getting docking permission
'...'
As the Crow crashed into the atmospheric control center Mark's body was completely flattened on the impact, the atmospheric control center itself was completely devastated as the entire structure was knocked loose from Towo station, compromising not only the atmospheric control but also the integrity of the entire section of the station
Hundreds of souls were condemned to oblivion in mere moments as the atmospheric control center and sections closest to it lost its structural integrity, however the worst was still to come as the Gila cartel section had been physically and permanently disconnected from the rest of the station's life support to avoid chemical and biological attacks. In plain english, about 50.000 people had just had their oxygen supply cut without their knowledge
'That wasn't as awful as I expected… Kind of like riding a rollercoaster'
A grey sludge seeped out from the mangled metal and slowly reformed into the form of a person, artificial bones snapped into place, skin mended and imitation organs reformed before the color finally changed to distinguish skin and clothes. In a few moments the grey matter had morphed into the near-perfect imitation of a person that showed a wide smile and muttered
"Time to go bag a cartel boss…"
-
"Fuck it's so fucking hot…"
Sitting inside a large office were Tomas Gila, the head of the Gila cartel. He was in his early 50's and thanks to biological enhancements he only looked like he was in his mid 20's, in the far corner of the room stood a metal barrel that was the source of the heat he was complaining about. It was a chlorate candle, or more commonly it was referred to as an oxygen candle, this produced oxygen via a chemical reaction that, as any other candle, also produced heat… Only this candle burned at about 500 degrees celsius, or 5 times the boiling point of water
"...Shit…"
Tomas cursed again, however this time it wasn't due to the heat, he had been attempting to get into contact with any members of his cartel on the outside of the Gila cartel controlled section of Towo station to get rescued ever since his office had locked down automatically due to the damage to the atmospheric control center. However the local SubNet had gone down a few minutes after the incident
"Those fuckers aren't getting their bonus, that's for sure"
Tomas wiped his forehead again, needless to say, his office was equipped with an air conditioner that even functioned without an external air control, however it wasn't able to keep up with the intense heat of the oxygen candle, so he sat with his feet in a bucket of water and occasionally wiped himself down with a cool rag to keep his temperature down
'I have enough supplies to last for a month… Damn it, if I knew those candles would be this unbearable I would've gone for a pressurized solution instead…'
Tomas firmly believed he would survive this inconvenience, however he held no illusions about what had happened to most of the people in his organization and it wasn't like he would just restart and go on with normal business like nothing had happened, oh no, Tomas had his slush fund ready and was prepared fly off and buy a plot of land on a habitable planet where he could live out the rest of his days in comfort
'I'm not quite ready to retire, still, this will have to do… Ugh, this sucks, get your fat asses off the fucking bench already…'
Cursing his would-be rescuers Tomas let out a sigh and muttered
"Maybe I should have kept you alive…"
Glancing down at his assistant, a pretty, young thing he had spent quite a lot of credits on buying and customizing to fit his preferences Tomas let out a sigh. When it had become clear the atmospheric control center had become completely destroyed, he had painted the wall with the inside of her skull by a single shot from his personal sidearm to save his limited oxygen supply
"...Fuck, you are going to rot and stink even more than you do now, aren't you?"
Leaning back his chair Tomas rested his eyes for a few moments before he got up and opened a closet, there he retrieved a sleeping bag and a foldable bed to get some rest, however after he finished setting up the bed a loud metal impact echoed out from the opposite wall
"What the f—"
Tomas didn't get to finish his sentence as a blade came flying through the wall and screamed across the office in an instant before it pierced through his chest and nailed him to the wall. Just as the pain registered to him he opened his mouth to scream, however just then the blade spun around, crushing his right lung completely along with his heart
'What…'
The last thing Tomas saw before oblivion took him was a grey ooze seeping in though the small hole in the opposite wall
-
"You sure were one fucked-up dude… Anyway, bagging complete"
Dropping the mutilated corpse that used to be Tomas Gila Mark let out a sigh, then he opened his hand and recalled his blade, idly spinning the blade Mark looked the office over for a bit before he threw the blade aside again, the blade flew across the room before it embedded itself in the crotch of Tomas Gila's corpse. Meanwhile Mark sat down in his chair and began searching his desk before he turned his attention to the integrated console
"Open up"
Effortlessly breaking the multiple layers of security on the console Mark began gathering information about the Gila cartel and after about an hour's reading he leaned back in the comfortable chair and muttered
"Well, that's the last head of this multiheaded snake cut for good… Now all there's left is to ensure the Iron Snake's compliance…"
Mark looked over at the mutilated corpse of Tomas Gila and flashed a refreshing smile before he spoke
"Don't worry too much my guy, I'll make good use of your slush fund"
Then Mark started cutting the corpse apart while he idly began budgeting out what he was going to use his newly discovered windfall on
'I definitely need an identity card, then there's the matter of getting some proper space legs and a rifle… Keeping some to grease some palms along the way is also a good idea… Yeah, that should be within the budget…'