ACT the Prologue
Scene 1: Dust to Dust
And [God] said, "What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the dirt!
And now cursed art thou from the ground, which hath opened its mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand.
When thou till the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee its strength.
A fugitive and a wanderer shalt thou be in the earth."
–Genesis 4:10-12
The beam had burnt enough away from his leg to stop his running. It was sudden; the dirt of the ground came before him, the bitter taste of sand and grass, and the smell of cauterized flesh. The feeling of hot knives in his leg exploded even more whenever he tried to stand up. But he would only see the dark night sky before he hit the ground again; moaning in pain. He struggled, bit by bit, grasping hold of the ground in clumps of dirt, clay, and bush.
Soon, his hand stopped working, a jolt of lighting struck his arm, and a foot crushed his out grasped hand. As loud as he could, he screamed in pain.
"You know I can't let you go," his attacker said, "witnesses have a tendency to tattle."
No escape, he started begging.
"Please, I don't do much here, I'm just an engineer! Even if I did tell, nobody would believe me!"
"Ah, yet you would inspire the seeds for suspicion should you tell. I didn't set out to create bloodshed, but sometimes, I guess you just have to clean up your messes."
The blaster slowly leveled to his face, he started breathing heavily, the darkness of the barrel stared him in the eye.
The engineer yelled as fast and loud as he could, "He isn't dead! Sergeant-"
Intro theme: Die by the Drop – The Dead Weather
Heroes they were in their time, however, time has a tricky way of letting deteriorate all things.
In those glory days, they were a household name, a name to be revered and respected, one of hope and faith in the good of all people.
However, the public mind holds its attention for only so long now. They were quickly trodden to the fate of other forgotten names and other heroes of long past.
Now, they were among a sea of names, for hire, four of the finest bodyguards and warriors in this section of the system! Contact now!
He sat in the waiting room, dark, dank, probably only a handful of people and the wallpaper an awkward green. The carpet an even darker brown. Whoever had made the place had no sense of color coordination, that was for sure.
Fox sighed; if it were in the older days, they all would've stood up and clapped as he walked in, shook his hand, taken a few photos. But those days were long gone.
Somewhere, Fox began to drift between sleep and awareness. Numbers called out, but none of them his, this whole fiasco equivalent to the lotto: all chance, no planning.
Two months back he was grabbing a snack some roach coach on the side of the road when he bumped into some lackey with a suit. Common knowledge would say that melted cheese does not bode well with expensive tweed jackets. When he offered to pay for it, the guy just stared at him for a bit. Fox just waved it off as anger, shock, and planned legal action. He reached for his wallet and proceeded to dig out as many credits as he could. As Fox handed the credits to him, the man's face lit up with enthusiasm.
"You're Fox McCloud, aren't you?"
Ah yes, the glory days.
"Perhaps, who's asking?"
Someone recognized you and that's the best line you can come up with?
The vulpine extended one hand in front of him to shake, now seemingly oblivious to the large stain on his jacket. He wore a pair of rimless glasses that sat just below his eyes and spoke as if he was always in a hurry.
"Simione, Aravas Simione, at your service. Well, not really at your service, but requesting your service."
"I'm not really looking for work at the moment, although, I do appreciate the offer."
"Oh, no no no no, uh…" he looked down at the stain, then promptly removed his jacket, rolling it up and placing it underneath his arm. "Here, mind if I walk with you?"
"Not at all."
"Great," He smiled, then reached for his pockets, and fiddled with his wallet until he pulled out a small card.
"Here, my business card, well, I guess it is good to be direct, yes? Of course, business is business, no time to prance about it…"
Fox inspected it:
Aravas Simione, Corporate Investigator, Private eye, Simione, Lee, Adams, and Simione Legal LLC "No stone unturned."
"The strange thing is, I love this thing more than I love my job, you know, just got them this morning. Look at that subtle off-white coloring, the tasteful thickness of it. Oh my God, it even has a watermark….Oh sorry, where are my manners? My profession is to work as a private eye of sorts, investigate the big companies, and do a little surveillance on the side…"
"Isn't that illegal?"
"Well not if you know the judge, otherwise it gets a little messy, nothing we can't handle though. I mean, yes, slightly, maybe, I don't know, I don't handle the legal department just yet. All that matters to me is that the information reaches the right hands and the right people. Always works better that way, yes?"
Fox nodded, taking a bite of whatever was left of his snack.
"Righty then, my offer to you is protection. I mean I'm not offering protection, heavens no, I can barely keep my own clothes in line. I mean I need protection, a body guard of sorts."
"And you want a star pilot to provide that?"
"Well, the great thing is, no other body guard operates off-world, especially on the outer planets."
Well, some ambition behind him then. Fox could respect that at least.
"Then where is it you want me to go?"
"Well, that's the thing; I was hoping we could just keep in contact for the time being. You see, the last job I did on the outer planets pretty much screwed me up…"
That's for sure.
But today, no other place to go, no other thing Fox could possibly be doing.
The home phone rings awfully loud now days.
The secretary was a large frog with a pair of glasses that sat on the hump of her nose, her mouth moving rhythmically, chewing some item in her cheeks. The desk in front of her was wide, larger than any Fox had seen before. Next to her was a large, dark, wooden door.
Breaking the silence and the clack of gum chewing, the door busted open, as a feline male exited with a tacky plaid, disheveled looking suit.
"Mr. McCloud, Simone will see you now," the secretary barely looked up from her holo-screen to notice him.
Fox got up, followed by a few wandering eyes about the waiting room. Some followed, most lost interest and returned to their magazine or whatever electronic device they happened to be holding at the time.
The door was large, made of a dark red wood, and incredibly heavy. When Fox opened it, the room behind it was much neater than the waiting room. Stacks of books and two busts adorned one end, the other was of a painting, a large portrait of a vulpine. The walls were a yellowish cream color, striped and patterned evenly. To the center was a large desk with a large chair at the center, off-center was Aravas standing to the side of the chair. In the middle was a grey haired vulpine with a small shot glass in his hands seated in a larger luxury chair.
"Ah yes! Mr. McCloud, please! Come in! It's an honor to have you! A hero of the Venomian war! Yes! Not too many of those around, these days! HAH!"
With a smokers cough, the grey haired vulpine stood up from his desk, revealing a rather large midsection, the suit was probably more than Fox made this year. Whenever the man spoke, he was always upbeat and animated, his left hand moving, punctuating every other word with little twists of his wrist, pointing, and even half shrugging. His right hand although, gripped firmly on the shot glass. The large grey vulpine and Fox shook hands, then Fox shook hands with Aravas.
"Good to see you again," the two exchanged, Fox tried to appear glad to be in their presence but it was a terrible mask.
"Well, to business," the large vulpine said, "If you didn't already guess, my name is Mr. Simone, this is my son, Aravas Simone, of course, you two kids already met I'm sure. He has a knack for not watching where he's going, the little rascal!"
The three took a seat, Aravas in a small desk chair behind Mr. Simone and Fox in one of the chairs sitting in front of Mr. Simone's desk. When he spoke this time, his voice was a little darker; his more serious side had come out.
"So two years ago, a materials engineering company had a branch based out of Fichina that was undergoing some problems. You know, one of those who build the parts and little gadgets for those fancy Arwings of yours. Embezzlement files were charged against them, falsification of documents, you know, the whole shebang! Heh, heh! The board of directors for the company here on Corneria turned to us to investigate the problem and press charges if needed. I sent my boy Aravas here to overlook the investigation."
Aravas spoke up.
"My ship was based in a little space port, a small little thing. No formal facilities of any type, not even a bloody washroom. To be honest, I could see it coming a mile away."
"The space port was invaded and commandeered by a band of bandits for a time, taking him hostage," Mr. Simone said.
Then, pulling up his jacket and shirt a bit, Aravace pulled off a fake skin/fur over his left hand, revealing a prosthetic hand.
"That day, we stopped working in the outer regions. I couldn't stand to see my boy in the condition they left him, and I couldn't even imagine him not coming home.
"But recently, an important client of ours recently asked us for assistance. Lein Energy, the leading catorometheus supplier in the system has asked us to investigate their drilling operations on Titania. While I would normally refuse, Lein Energy has been very helpful to us in the past. Not only that but it would put our law firm a step ahead in the market with their name under our reputation.
"Aravas here insists that I let him back into the outer regions. I'm reluctant, even now, to see him off again only two years after his first accident. But, I've come to learn that in this business, we take risks all the time, even in our personal lives. I will allow him to go to Titania and investigate under one condition of course. The safety of my son is the utmost importance. Mr. McCloud, I don't ask for much. All I need you to do is to bring him back in once piece."
Fox dwelt upon the words spoken for a bit, the first thing he usually asked was about payment, but with the load that Mr. Simone seemed to unload on him, it seemed insensitive at the moment.
Really, there was nothing else to say, "So when do we leave?"