Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan. The characters belong to Hajime Isayama. I am gaining nothing from this story apart from writing experience and the lovely entertainment these two dorks provide.

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Marco Bodt and mentions of other pairings.

A/N: To celebrate the amazing end to a crazy semester, I'm publishing this earlier than I planned. I've always liked December, anyway. I can't say how often it'll update, as the story is still forming, but I have the end already planned so I'll get it to that point. Always know your ending for writers! It really helps, trust me.

This fic is rated M(MA) due to strong language, the likelihood of violence, explicit sexual descriptions, Titan shenanigans, and so on. Also, there are possible spoilers ahead.. for fair warning.

This story was loosely influenced by Outlaw Star.

Into the Cherished, Boundless Blue


What are people's greatest treasures? What is it that should be valued most in the world? Especially when the world's ideas of wealth are in a constant state of evolution as time carries on…

Golden sunbeam rays shined down on the planet Shiganshina in sector Maria56, and many bright and exuberant faces walked about its vast capital city that was covered in that familiar, warm glow. Sleek cars flew overhead, some much faster than others, drawing the attention of young children and rambunctious teenagers. The city was truly alive and booming today, more so than usual.

The sunlight also made its way into the jail house, the place where Jean Kirstein had wound up last night. Glancing up through the cell bars, that he knew from firsthand experience were electrified for security, in the window, he gave a heavy sigh. Another hangover, another day where he had to pay for the actions from the night before that he didn't even remember.

It was a shame that he had to witness such a bright and beautiful day from inside his cramped, barren, and exceptionally lonely holding cell.

"Shit…" he cursed lowly while rubbing his aching head consolingly. The very day he turned twenty-one, he'd gone out drinking. It hadn't mattered that he went alone, since he usually was alone. At that point in his life, he wanted to be an adult; which meant indulging himself in Vine, since that was what he'd seen his parents do when he was young. Now, at the strong age of twenty-five and having quite a bit of experience with it, he was willing to admit he had a slight drinking problem. But that thought easily vanished when he was in a bar with literally hundreds of different drinks to pick from.

His problem usually exhausted his bank accounts, so he was currently as broke as the sun was bright.

When a guard walked over to his cell and unlocked it, he raised a curious eyebrow.

As if sensing Jean's curiosity, the guard shook his head, "Someone was nice enough to pay your bondage and get you out of here. Don't know who would even go to the trouble though…" he said.

Jean smirked and stood up, glad that someone was looking out for him, then wasted no time in making his way out of the cell. "See you drones later." He remarked as he walked out of the cell.

"Probably sooner than you think." The guard who let him out replied snarkily.

Rolling his eyes, Jean headed on to the front desk to collect the few belongings of his that had been confiscated the night before. After getting his wallet and checking to see that everything was still there, he took it and his keys and left. He had no time to waste at the jail house.

Wandering the extravagant, skyscraper-packed city lit by the sunset's warm glow with only a few bucks on hand was tough—almost impossible.

Getting into any bars was even tougher, considering most of them told him they weren't in the mood for dealing with "chump change-having drunkards". Jean had been chased out of all the bars he stepped foot into, and even the women who filled the backstreets and corners shooed him with threats to make him less of a man than he already was.

As luck would have it, there was one bar that accepted his business. It was a bar full of people who looked like they were in their forties and older, practically a dive, but hey, liquor was liquor. At least the darkly lit place had one of those counters that lit up in different colors and a backdrop behind the shelves of alcohol that did the same, only with water and bubbles too. After getting to the counter and ordering a simple round of Vine on the rocks, Jean found himself utterly disappointed in the taste. It was obviously diluted, and there was an after taste that didn't sit well with him either.

Unfortunately, he didn't have money for anything more than Vine, so he made do with what he had.

A little while passed, and with his glass sitting in front of him, full of ice and nothing more, Jean decided to pay his bill and get going. He was just about to get up, but was stopped when an older man came up to him and sat down with a smile as a greeting. He looked at him, noting his hairless head and tired complexion. His clothes were nice, which was to be expected since they were in a bar, but his face held a look that said he'd been through a lot in his long life. Regardless, he wasn't interested in the least. "Look guy, I'm not really into men-"

"Hold your horses, bub! I'm not hitting on you or anything of the sort. I just wanna chat." The old man interrupted.

"Chat, huh?" Jean asked, still a little suspicious.

"Yeah. It's not every day that I get to see a young man like you around in such a casual setting." He said, and then raised his hand in greeting to the bartender, "I'll have a Harrowing Jon on the rocks please."

"This is sounding just like flirting to me…" Jean almost mumbled and watched as the bartender started preparing the drink. She was quite pretty, he noticed, now that he took a good look at her. He considered slipping her his number before he left. Those pants needed getting into, and he wanted to be the one getting in them.

"See, that's the problem with you brats these days. You never listen to adults and you're quick to jump to unnecessary, unreasonable conclusions."

"I'm twenty-five years old! I'm not a brat, you haggard old-"

"What do you value the most, son? Is it Vine? Sake? Gold? Jewels?"

"Heh! Why not value all of those things? And hell, add women to that list and you've summed my life up in a nutshell. Well, my desires anyway…" Jean grinned.

The old timer turned his attention down to his drink for a moment. "It takes a lifetime of true struggles for us to learn what's truly valuable. Man's greatest treasure… something worth more than all the riches in this boundless universe… No matter how troublesome and hard it is to keep with us sometimes…" he said after a few seconds of silence. His heavy words failed to match the calm look on his face, as each sentence revealed the forlornness of the life he'd lived.

"What's that? Do you know of something I don't? Is there something out there even more valuable than the money we have in our solar systems?"

Ignoring Jean's subtle insistence that there was nothing out there that could top money's value in life, the old man turned to him, "…Listen, how would you like a ship?"

Jean's brow furrowed and he turned to stare at the older man with complete suspicion. "What?" he said, sure he was hearing things.

"You weren't mishearing things. How would you like a ship?" he repeated.

"Heh, I'd love one! Then I could probably get off this hellhole and go to one of the other planets. Or even one of the other solar systems." Jean said honestly. He'd wound up stuck here while all the others he trained with back in military school, with one exception, had gone off into space to find their paths in life. It was like he was trapped here for the rest of his life with no hope of ever climbing up the ladder to success. Mediocrity was his daily routine, only being able to round up odd jobs through an employment company that found jobs for him.

Ten years ago, when everyone graduated the Training Corps, he vowed to himself he would be great; someone worth the space he occupied. Sadly, those words amounted to absolutely nothing now. His life, given adequate description, was Hell in a shittily decorated hand basket.

If his parents were still alive, he imagined they'd be disappointed in the sorry excuse of a man he'd become... It sank his heart like a brick in a river just thinking about how much he was letting them down, which is why he tried not to.

"Then how 'bout I give you one?"

"You have one to just give away like that?" Jean asked, his eyebrows moving up his forehead just a bit in suspicious curiosity.

The man pulled a set of keys out from his jacket and held them in the palm of his hand, staring down at them intently. "Listen boy. Heed my advice. Nothing in this life comes free but one thing. Until you find out what that thing is, you'll never know what it means to truly be alive."

"Heh... Whatever you say."

"And one more thing."

"So you're actually serious about this?"

With a grim look that spoke to deathly extremes, the old man turned to Jean and stared him dead in the eyes, "Do not dare to dance with the devil when he makes you an offer. You won't make it out alive no matter what conditions may come your way."

Jean swallowed a mouthful of saliva. Never had he heard someone say anything so foreboding before. Never in all his life—and he'd spent plenty of time around Annie during their training…

When the old man slid the keys over to him and stood up, he raised an eyebrow, "You can part with something like a ship so easily?"

After taking one final swig of his drink, the old man turned and looked the wall of expensive vines and other liquors over, "I've wasted my life searching for a treasure that I could never have... Or, more precisely, a treasure I was never meant to have. I lost precious, irreplaceable things… and can never forget the truest treasures I'd found… but I see something in you that I like. You may just succeed where I failed. It's the older generation's job to pass on what they've attained and hope for the next generation's success. So now that I have… it's time for this old man to wind down and live out the rest of my days in peace. Besides, that thing's just a reminder of my failures, anyway." Jean sat in confusion and watched as the stranger got up and put his overcoat on, "By the way, find a codex if you're interested in chasing after the treasure I looked for. Don't let anyone make you believe it doesn't exist." The man said, and then left the bar, carrying his sorrowful ideals on his broad shoulders.

When he was gone, Jean stared at the door he left through, half expecting him to come back and say it was all a joke. But that never happened. He cautiously glanced down at the keys and felt his heart racing a bit faster than it had in a long time.

This was it. This was his chance to get off this planet! Thanks to that guy with the uncountable number of wrinkles under his eyes, he had an opportunity that he knew would come only once in his lifetime.

After swiftly picking the keys up, he read the digital tag attached to them and saw that the ship was docked at one of the wealthiest docking ports on the planet! Looking at the door the old man had just left through, he wondered if he had found that treasure the outlaws, mercenaries, and space pirates were all adamantly lusting after. He couldn't have, or he wouldn't have been so tired looking and defeated.

Jean looked back down at the keys once more, deciding to go check out the ship tomorrow. But before he did, he knew there was someone he wanted to see first. Tomorrow, though. The day had run its course, and he needed to get some sleep.


The next day, mid-day.

Giving warm smiles to his fellow coworkers as they headed out on their lunch breaks to a new restaurant that had just opened downtown, Marco Bodt, a friendly, handsome, humble, and incredibly inviting man to everyone he came into contact with, of only twenty-five, made his way back to his desk from the radar in the center of the room. Marco had grown fairly content with his job as a meteorologist for the planet's main news station. It earned him decent money, and he felt like he was doing something useful for the people around him. Of course, with his friendliness and strikingly handsome smile came an unexpected bit of stage fright, meaning it wasn't his face on the news giving weather reports each day. Instead, he just operated the Doppler radar, a machine that calculated the incoming weather conditions. Someone else's face was the face on the daily news.

Today, he had decided to stay at his desk for lunch while the others who were on lunch break at the same time as he was went out. It was that decision that had let one of his lifelong problems, but also one of his greatest blessings, find him at his desk.

Jean Kirstein was a man he unconditionally helped as much as he possibly could whenever he could. He did care about him a lot—more than he could verbally express presently. After all, they'd gone to military school together ten years ago. The amount of bonding they'd done in those harsh, trying times was incredible to say the least. In fact, most everyone from back then agreed that they had one of the closest relationships in the 104th Trainee Squad… It even got to the point where a certain someone spread a rumor that they were dating.

It took forever and a day for that damn rumor to die…

When he saw Jean approaching, he lightly sighed and wondered just what outlandish and bizarre adventure he'd tell him about today. After all, he didn't visit him at work unless it was "important".

"Marco, you're still working this second-rate job?" Jean asked when he reached said man's desk. He stood there the way he normally did when he visited, with one arm resting on the top tier of Marco's desk where the company logo was imprinted on glass, his right hand in his jacket pocket, and his hip out in an unintentionally sassy way.

"This 'second-rate job' is what paid your bail for all the parking tickets and misdemeanors you've been accumulating. Why do you insist on getting into trouble with the law so much?" Marco replied, and then subtly took a gander at Jean's facial stubble, or lack thereof, for a moment. He'd shaved recently, thank the heavens.

"'Cuz I know you'll save me." Jean said with an innocent grin, referring not only to how Marco had just gotten him out of jail, but also to the many times he'd "saved" him in the past. "Thanks for bailing me out by the way. I owe you."

"Don't mention it. I get the feeling I'll be bailing you out a lot in the future…" Marco said with a sigh. "I assume you've got some big story to tell me, because you only visit me at work when that's the case… or if you need money."

"You always try to play me for a leech or something, but I actually do have something important to tell you."

"Oh? Go ahead. I'm listening." Marco insisted as he turned his full attention to the man standing beside him.

Jean took note of the man's style for the unteempth time, which was always somewhat reminiscent of a father's from the way he tucked his polo shirts into his khaki pants. "Actually, maybe I shouldn't tell you about this…" he said, seriously considering whether he should or not.

"Make up your mind, Jean."

"Fine." Jean did just that and got closer to Marco, "Keep this between us, a'right? Kay, so… I just got this ship from some old guy! He gave it to me because he said he was tired or something. I don't really remember. But anyway, now I can finally get off this damned planet!" he whispered, excitement booming from the look on his face.

A little warm from the closeness and the feeling of Jean's breath on his skin, Marco pulled away, "You must've had too much vine last night."

"No, I didn't! I hardly drank at all! I swear!"

"Nothing in this world comes free, Jean... You know that."

"Oh yeah? Well lookie here!" Jean said, then pulled the keys out from his pants pocket and showed them to his dubious, freckled friend.

Marco took the keys into his hand and became confused. "Who would give you the keys to a cargo ship like this?"

"Wh- Cargo ship?!" Jean shouted disbelievingly, one of his eyes twitching a bit.

"Yeah, it says it right here." The tan man said, pointing to the words on the back of the digital screen.

Jean sweatdropped. "Eeeh… S—so what? It's still a ship!"

"…" Marco poked his lips out and had a skeptical look on his face.

"And I'm gonna take every last penny I own and put it into this ship so I can finally get off this god forsaken planet!"

It wouldn't be anything to write home about.

With disappointment filling him to the brim, Marco turned around and tried returning to his lunch that was coupled with lackluster paperwork. "It's your life, Jean. Do what you want with it. Just… don't waste it on alcohol and cat houses… okay?" he said without looking at the man. If he did, he would probably be tempted from his clenching gut to ask him not to leave.

Jean slipped the keys back into his jacket pocket, then looked around to make sure no one was in the area before getting closer to Marco again, "Marco, you should come with me! It'd be so much fun, and the women would be even better than they are here!" He whispered, making pure assumptions based on his own hopes.

Marco inhaled sharply and even felt his breath hitch for a moment. He got ready to grab his inhaler from his top desk drawer, but when he calmed and started breathing normally again, he calmed down and thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't become so vulnerable in front of Jean, let alone at work. He was the rock in their friendship, and needed to put on a brave front to keep Jean from crumbling under the many immense pressures of adulthood. "Jean, I can't just up and leave like that. I have a job here—a life here. And besides that, I'm on the right side of the law. If you came here to beg me for money for this trip of yours, I'm sorry but I don't have any to give you right now."

"Marco…" Jean was beyond crestfallen to hear that, and it sounded in his voice.

"I have work to do, so please… you should go." Marco said, wishing that weren't the case and also feeling incredibly guilty. He did enjoy having Jean around… the few times he did come around to actually hang out. "Call me later if you need anything." He finished, implying that he did still want to spend time with him even if they would just be talking over the phone.

Still disappointed that Marco, the person he always expected to stay at his side, wasn't willing to come with him, Jean looked down at the floor for a moment. Then, he took two steps back and turned to leave. If nothing else, he now knew he had to get rich so he could flaunt it to all his haters, but also, with all his heart, he wanted to repay Marco for all the times he'd helped him out in the past.


A few hours later...

As he entered the expansive docking port, Jean, with a duffel bag over his shoulder, looked around trying to figure out which of the skyward-facing ships was his. Most of them looked very sleek and were classily decorated. White was a common color in this dock, and so were golden and platinum adornments.

Walking over to the office, he entered and went straight to the front desk.

"Can I help you, sir?" the clerk asked, a tone evident in his voice as he was sure he couldn't help this street lurker.

Jean quickly fumbled about his jacket, then finally found and pulled out his keys, showing the tag to the man, "I'm looking for the dock with this ship."

"… Dock twelve… Are those your keys?"

"Yep!"

"Well… your ship is waiting for you, then."

"Thanks." Jean said, then turned and was quick to get out of the condescending man's company before he said something to him that would get him in trouble.

The clerk squinted at him as he left, then turned to his computer and pulled up a list of wanted persons.


"Whoa! Holy fucking shit on a stick!" Jean exclaimed, shamelessly excited that his new ship was so substantial in size. It stretched up to the sky and reflected the sunlight like he'd never seen before. Why was that old man tired of chasing a treasure in this thing?

It was dynamic, slim, and sleek all in one sky-stretching bundle. The dark shade of gray with gold and white accents made it look like the ship of a king. As Marco had said, it was definitely a cargo ship, but it wasn't obvious from first glance. The design was very aerodynamic for a cargo ship.

"Hey, that's a nice ship you got there."

Jean hurried to turn around when he heard the sound of that voice, "MARCO?!"

"That's right." said man grinned. Jean noticed that something about him seemed… odd now. Incredibly unusual. But not in a bad way. He was fresh, even. He'd decided to wear very casual clothes—a semi-tight red and white t-shirt, some dark grey shorts that had a glowing blue stripe up the sides, and black boots—and even his demeanor was much more lax than it had been earlier today.

"What happened to you? And what are you doing here?" Jean asked with a smile that easily rivaled his friend's. Marco just couldn't resist the idea of leaving the planet after all.

"Nothing happened. And as for why I'm here… I wanted to see the ship, that's all. Don't get any ideas!"

Squinting and smirking at the thing that proved his words to be false, Jean pointed it out. "What's that bag on your back for then?"

Marco felt his cheeks go warm and he looked away, "It's nothing!"

Jean's grin stretched from ear to ear, which was something he never ever usually did for anyone, mind you, and ran over to Marco, "Marco, come with me! Be my navigator! I'll die out there without your help!" he declared, taking the slightly taller man's arm into his mannish hand.

"Jean, I did a lot of thinking, and I wanna tell you this before I lose my nerve-"

"THERE HE IS!"

Jean looked over Marco's shoulder and Marco turned around slightly. Both of their brown eyes went wide when they saw a group of security guards speeding their way on motorbikes.

"SHIT!" Jean shouted in both surprise and annoyance. Well, there was only one thing to do now! "Marco, it's now or never!" he exclaimed, then tore off to the stairwell that would lead him up to the ship's main door.

Marco nodded and followed after Jean. But instead of taking the stairs that stretched up for what seemed like miles of breathless misery, he decided to take the elevator that was off to itself in a corner. He wasn't in the mood to become exhausted, as his mild case of asthma would certainly flare up if he followed Jean thoughtlessly.

Admittedly, waiting patiently in the elevator as it climbed its way to the top floor was fairly anti-climactic, and the mellow music playing only made it seem as though he wasn't being pursued at all. If nothing else, he had a good view of the glamorous, skyward-stretching city overrun with hundreds of skyscrapers. When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, he hurried out and looked over to the staircase. Jean hadn't arrived yet.

"Jean…" he breathed, full of worry, and then ran over to the bars lining the edge of the platform. It hadn't exactly occurred to him how high he was from the ground, and being faced with such a terrifying height where he could hardly see the ground so suddenly made him almost lose his balance. He quickly stepped back and fell on his posterior with a heavy sigh.

For just a few seconds, he was able to regain his composure until Jean tore up the stairs and reached the top level, fumbling with the keys and not even looking where he was going. "Damn it! I said unlock!" he shouted at them, then pressed the button on his keypad.

"Jean!"

"Marco!" Jean's eyebrows flew up his forehead and he stopped altogether, "You're coming with me after all?!"

"Yeah! But we won't be going anywhere if we get caught!" Marco replied, then stood up and hurried over to Jean.

"I'm telling this thing to unlock, but it won't listen to me!"

Marco looked over Jean's shoulder as they ran and shook his head. "It's saying it's already unlocked… in the bottom right corner."

"N-no way!" Looking down to the indicated corner, Jean squinted, "Wow… this thing is so… stupid." The metallic door automatically slid open as the two of them reached it, and Jean turned around and saw the security guards closing in on them. With haste, he hurried inside, where the gravity was shifted thanks to the ship's direction, and when Marco was in behind him, he started slamming his hand on the lit-up screen beside the door, "Shit, close! Close, damn you!"

"Excuse me, but I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't do that." A voice called over an intercom.

Jean stopped banging the door control panel and looked around carefully. "Who said that…?"

"Oh, it seems there is a large group of people aggressively pursuing you."

"What?!"

Marco gazed around the corridor they were standing in and raised an eyebrow, "Is this the ship's computer speaking?" he asked.

"Why yes it is, sir. I am Sir Marksman the Second. Pleased to make your-"

"MJ*, for the love of God, close the door!" Jean roared.

"Of course, sir." The door closed quickly, then the sounds of latches locking echoed from it. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Yeah, where's the cockpit? It's time to blow this popsicle stand!"

"Take the corridor you're in all the way to the green arrow on the wall and you'll find it."

"Come on, Marco." Jean said as he started to do just that.

As the two of them floated up the corridor following the green-lit arrows, Marco couldn't help himself from wondering if what he did was the right choice. Leaving everything he'd built here to wander around the galaxy aimlessly… With Jean… For his sake…

Jean turned and looked down at Marco, "You okay?" he asked.

"Y—yeah."

"Did you bring your inhaler? I know you don't need it too much, but we can wait out the guards if you didn't." Jean always had Marco's best interest in mind. It was an instinct of his to look after him, especially after what happened all that time ago…

With a surprised look on his face at the concern Jean was showing for him, Marco took a moment before he replied, "I brought it. But I don't really need it. Thanks for asking, though." He smiled.

"Can't have a friend dying on my watch." Jean grinned. "Oh, we're at the end of the corridor." he said as he looked around. There was a door before him, so he pressed the button beside it. "MJ, let me in."

The door slid open and the cockpit was revealed to them, "Where is the Captain?" Marksman asked when the two boys entered.

"…" Jean stared at Marco, who stared right back at him and raised his shoulders. "I'm the captain." He said quickly.

"There appears to be data on a previous crew that is… oh my! It seems to be heavily encrypted. Shall I try accessing it?"

"N—no. Listen to me. I'm the captain of this vessel now! Jean Kirstein!" Jean ordered.

"Understood." Marksman said as he took a digital photo of Jean. "And who is that person behind you?" he asked as he saw Marco put his duffel bag down.

Looking over his shoulder for a second, Jean smiled. "This is Marco Bodt. He's the navigator, and the vice-captain of this ship." He replied.

"Understood. I have your information saved in the ship's database now." Marksman paused for a moment and the sound of data being searched through echoed in the room. "Oh my! It seems that you have a warrant out for your arrest, Captain Kirstein!"

"WHAT?! A WARRANT!?"

"It was just issued a few minutes ago by The Goddess' Internal Security Department."

"Shit! Ugh! W—well…! We're leaving, anyway!" Jean shouted, and then floated over to the captain's seat in the center of the room. To his left and right just a few inches closer to the floor than his seat was, there were seats. In front of him, there was another seat with an inactive digital keyboard in front of it. In front of the crew's seating arena, there was a large window divided into three sections that stretched all the way around the cockpit, allowing for full view of the blue sky above.

"This must be the navigator's seat." Marco said, taking the seat that was directly behind Jean, suspended a bit above his on a second level of the room. The floor beneath him looked as if it would open up, given the splits in it that all met at a central point and also for the fact that it was a dark gray compared to the rest of the floor in the cockpit, but it didn't.

"Captain, there is someone on the ground level of the docking arena with a message for you." Marksman said.

"What? I don't have time for that! And like hell I'm leaving this ship with those coppers out there trying to tase me to death!"

"I'll pull up a live window."

A live tile of the chief of the ISD appeared. "JEAN KIRSTEIN! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

"Yeah right!" Jean roared. "MJ, it's time for liftoff!"

"But sir, the gas reserves are low, and I believe there are agents trying to access it as we speak."

"ALL THE MORE REASON TO GO!"

"I'm seeing green across the board, Jean." Marco said. "There aren't any problems with the engines, the gas we have is sufficient for getting us into space, and there are no reports of galactic storms to be wary of."

"FUCK YES!" Jean grinned, and then looked to the chief of the ISD, "STICK YOUR HEAD IN A PILE OF COW SHIT AND TELL YOUR FAMILY ABOUT IT!" He told him, pulling his eye down at the man childishly.

"Sir, we are ready for liftoff. Use the pedals at your feet to begin launch sequence."

"Alright! Liftoff in three-"

"I'LL HAVE YOU LOCKED AWAY FOREVER, KIRSTEIN!" Chief Dawk roared.

"Two!"

"Don't forget to fasten your safety belts." Marksman said.

"One!"

"We're really about to do this, Jean." Marco smiled.

"RIGHT! LIFTOFF!" Jean hollered, stomping down on the gas pedal as hard as he could.

The ship started rumbling almost immediately and the ground began to tremble. All agents trying to stop Jean from leaving Shiganshina evacuated the area as the ship emitted the scorching exhaust from its four main propulsion engines. Slowly but surely, the ship started pulling off from the dock. The arms holding it in place released and pulled away.

Even with the dozens of people at the space station yelling at him, and even with the Internal Security Department agents promising him they'd have his head, Jean kept his eyes focused on that boundless blue sky above. His journey was beginning now. It was his chance to stop chasing chump change and become someone important.

"LET'S GOOO!" he hollered up to the sky as his ship launched at full speed and tore its way through the atmosphere.

His adventure was beginning now! The immeasurable, danger-stricken galaxy was now his to explore!


*MJ – Marksman Junior. Jean's immediate nickname for Marksman.

A/N: This'll probably be the only time I say this, but any comments you have, feel free to submit via review. If you liked the chapter, don't hesitate to follow this story. This story is also available on ArchiveofOurOwn.