In the vast emptiness of space, a huge station quakes with dread, for it is not alone anymore.
Scientists and researchers inside scramble in fear as they are shot down, their screams echoing through the halls as they are caught in the crossfire between invaders and the station's security units.
Meanwhile, one figure remains calm, riding a lift as it ascends. They pay no attention to the flashing warnings on the panels and continue to play a violin that is not there.
Suddenly, the elevator is rocked by an explosion, jolting them back to reality. Red lights bathe the small space in an ominous crimson glow. "It seems like I came at a bad time," they mutter dryly, a vast understatement given the pandemonium unfolding around them.
A holographic screen flickers to life, a female disembodied voice responding with natural nonchalance. "No no. I think you couldn't have timed it better."
The elevator doors part with a hiss, and the figure steps out into the large chamber, the hologram trailing behind them like a ghostly companion.
Crimson hair cascades in a messy ponytail, two loose strands framing her angular features. She wears a white dress shirt that leaves her shoulders bare, a black jacket draped casually over her frame. A silver butterfly pin adorns the lapel. Dark glasses perch atop her head, revealing piercing wine-colored eyes.
"Will we need to fight the Legion?" She asks, surveying the eerie, neon-lit room with a critical eye. Flashes of light and distant screams filter in from outside.
"Elio didn't say anything about it, so it doesn't matter," replies the hologram dismissively.
"I'll be taking charge of the operation now. I'm sorry I can't let you have your fun, Silver Wolf, but we're only tasked with placing the target properly this time." The woman retrieves a specialized data drive from an inner pocket, running her thumb over the smooth metal casing. Her eyes glaze over while examining it closely.
Silver Wolf's response is a put-upon sigh, but she doesn't argue the orders. With a final glance around the chamber, the woman tucks the drive away and draws a pair of submachine guns from her concealed shoulder holsters.
The next room she enters is even larger and more spacious. Most importantly, it is occupied. Dozens of Reavers, twisted hollow knights of the Anti-matter Legion, turn in eerie unison as she makes her way in. For a beat, they simply regard each other through the dim lighting.
She opens fire, tearing the beasts of metal asunder in a mix of lightning and lead and making quick work of them. Whichever manages to survive the rounds of bullets perish in a shower of sparks a moment after.
She steps over the remains of the monsters, their metal bodies sparking and twitching. Suddenly, a blur of movement catches her eye. A lone Reaver, somehow still functioning, lunges at her from the shadows. Before she can react, a burst of electric blue energy slams into the creature, sending it crashing to the ground in a heap of twisted metal.
A petite young woman wearing a short, black coat along with a crop top steps out from behind a pillar, lowering her outstretched hand. She sports a silver ponytail tied in a bow, and a pair of purple neon glasses sitting atop her head.
"You're welcome, Kafka," she says with a smirk.
Kafka rolls her eyes but nods in appreciation. "Have you located the Stellaron?" she asks impatiently.
Silver Wolf doesn't comment on her tone. "It should be in a nearby command center, just a few rooms from here," she replies, gesturing down the corridor.
"Good," Kafka says, already moving in that direction. "Let's go."
The two make their way through the station, dispatching any Reavers that dare to stand in their path. Kafka's guns flash in the dim light, while Silver Wolf's digital manipulations tear the enemies apart from the inside out. They are an unstoppable force, moving with deadly precision.
Finally, they reach the command center. Silver Wolf steps up to a holographic console, her fingers dancing over the ethereal keys. The wall in front of them begins to glitch and distort, pixels cascading down like digital waterfalls. A portal forms, its edges flickering and unstable.
Kafka barely spares the anomaly a glance before stepping through, emerging into a circular room that seems to exist outside the normal confines of space. The metal floors are cold beneath her boots, and in the center of the room, atop a glowing console, hovers a pulsing yellow orb.
Kafka approaches it slowly, her eyes locked on the mesmerizing glow. She feels drawn to it as if it's calling to her very soul.
"Are you ready?" Silver Wolf asks from behind her, breaking the spell.
Kafka blinks, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs. She takes a deep breath and nods, a determined grunt escaping her lips. She reaches into her jacket, retrieving the specialized data drive. She holds it out to Silver Wolf, her gaze pointedly averted from the device. "Here, take it."
Silver Wolf accepts the drive, turning to insert it into a small console adjacent to the central one. As she inputs a command, Kafka reaches out and grasps the pulsing yellow orb - the Stellaron. Its warmth seeps into her gloved hands, a strange and unsettling sensation.
"And... done," Silver Wolf announces, stepping back from the console.
Suddenly, the space beside the central console flickers and distorts. Holograms dance and weave, coalescing into the form of a man. He appears to be unconscious or asleep, his features slack and peaceful.
Kafka studies him, taking in his appearance one last time. He's tall, with an athletic build and tanned skin, his rich black hair falling across his forehead. He's wearing a sleek, well-tailored black suit that fits him like a second skin, the jacket buttoned over a crisp white shirt and black tie. A black vest hugs his torso, adding an extra layer of sophistication. Even his hands are covered in refined black gloves, matching the rest of his ensemble.
She steps closer, the Stellaron still clutched in her hands. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she lowers the orb to the man's chest.
"Time to get up, Xander," she murmurs, a melancholic edge to her voice. With a gentle push, she presses the Stellaron against his chest.
The orb sinks into him, disappearing beneath his skin. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, his chest rises and falls with a deep breath, signs of life returning to his body. Yet, he remains unconscious, oblivious to the world around him.
Kafka turns to Silver Wolf, a question in her eyes. "Did Elio mention anything about what's to happen to him?"
Silver Wolf hesitates, an uncharacteristic uncertainty in her expression. "He didn't," she admits quietly. "For once, neither we nor Elio know what the future holds. It's scary."
They both look back at the man resting peacefully, unaware of the destiny that will soon be thrust upon his shoulders. The fate of the universe may very well rest in his hands when he awakens.
But for now, in this moment, he sleeps.