The planet of Certh-S11 is a planet marred by the horrors of war waged by several major factions of the planet's inhabitants. Among which, the faction with the greatest military power was suspected to be in possession of a stellaron.

Bring back the stellaron from planet Certh-S11. That was the job that Zind found himself being sent out upon. Like how Silver Wolf ended up at his home planet at Velura on a solo mission as a rite of passage for all hunters who were recruited into this small little group, this is his very first job as a Stellaron Hunter and he plans to complete it with perfection.

"Are you sure you are going to be okay?" Silver Wolf cannot help but ask once again. The bumpkin lacks decent knowledge about the galaxy which should be common sense for anyone else. She's a little worried that he will be lost in the cosmos somewhere if nobody's keeping an eye out for him.

"Don't fret, I got this," Zind replied confidently. "You guys want any souvenirs?"

"If there's any good games, sure."

"L-Let us know if you need help! Safety comes first!" Firefly reminded their newest member, her worry written clearly on her face. "We will come immediately if we receive your distress signal!"

"Thanks Firefly, but it's dangerous out there. You are not a combat personnel and besides, your job as a nurse is equally important as well. I'll be counting on you after I return!"

"O-Okay! Although I wish you won't need my help if possible… Also, actually, I'm SA–"

"Bro, you're running late," Silver Wolf "helpfully" reminded Zind and Zind hurriedly departed. They both watched in concern as Zind piloted one of their spacecrafts as it shakily manoeuvred itself through the debris belt that hid their hideout, which was honestly a sight not for the weak hearted considering how Zind nearly crashed the spacecraft on three occasions.

"So… I have a feeling that Zind is misunderstanding something," Kafka playfully slurred through her words with a knowing smile on her face.

"He still doesn't know that Firefly is Sam."

"It's all because you keep interrupting me whenever I try to clear up the misunderstanding!" Firefly accused.

"And Zind loves mechas. He's Sam's fanboy," Silver Wolf continued as if she didn't hear Firefly's accusations. "And he's also a simp for our dear Firefly."

"Silver Wolf…"

"Interesting."

"Kafka! Not you too!"

Blade did not utter a word, but the fact that he did nothing was also a show of his tacit approval to keep up with this farce in the name of good fun. Even an immortal like him got to find ways to entertain themselves in the long course of their lives.

Landing the spacecraft onto Certh-S11 wasn't too difficult. Zind was already briefed about the mission parameters and all the intel that he needed to know about this planet. Like the experienced merc that he is, the first thing he did after he disembarked was to blend into the local population and start to gather even more intel that only the local inhabitants would know.

It took him three days of preparation and information gathering before he felt fully prepared to start infiltrating the area which he believed would most likely hold the object that he's here to steal. He slipped past the guards, avoided the patrols, disabled the security systems that blockaded his progress–

Only to find the cool metallic barrel of a pistol pressing against the side of his head.

"Well well well, what do I have here? A little cutie in a place where he doesn't belong. 'Tis my lucky day, I was thinking that I needed a guide into this screwalluba place and you, honey, just dropped into my lap."

Zind calmly raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrender and observed the man holding him at gunpoint. He admits that he's a bumpkin but even he could tell that the cowboy in front of him is a cyborg, and he knows for a fact that the technological advancements of this planet does not support the creation of such a being.

Also…

"... Cool."

"Huh?"

"You are so darn cool," Zind whispered in awe. He had to fight the urge to not let his jaws drop in awe. A cyborg, he got to meet a real cyborg. Sam is still the number one coolest mecha but this cowboy is definitely his number two.

This universe is so cool.

"Son of a nice lady, you have good taste," the cowboy blurted and now that his eyes had gotten accustomed to the dim lighting of the area which they were at, was finally able to observe Zind in greater detail.

"You are not with the Iglerix?"

"No shit. Does my equipment look like something that a backwater planet like Certh-S11 could produce?"

"Muddle-fudger, I nearly put a fudgin' hole into the wrong guy," Boothill slotted his pistol back into its rightful holster. "Apologies, my man, I got the wrong guy, uh, common mistakes in our line of work, I'm sure yer could understand. Name's Boothill, Galaxy Ranger."

"Zind, wandering merc," Zind introduced himself via the alias that he will take on until the day comes where he makes his official debut to the entire galaxy about his identity as a Stellaron Hunter. Silver Wolf had gone to great lengths to hammer in many commonly known facts about the universe ever since he joined so that he would no longer be a bumpkin. He had heard of the Galaxy Rangers, but he wasn't expecting to meet one on his very first solo trip in space.

"Eh, nice to see a fellow partner around these parts," Boothill and Zind shared a bro handshake, feeling like they found a like-minded fellow in the recesses of Certh-S11 where they least expected to encounter another denizen from outside this planet. For some reason that neither of them can explain, they just knew that they can be bros with the other party.

"So why're you here, darling? 'Tis not a good place to hang out."

"My job brought me here. You know what mercs do; you gotta do what you have to do as long as the price is right."

"Fudge me, just what on earth does your employer want that brought you to this fudgin wasteland?"

"... Is there something wrong with your Synesthesia Beacon or is it mine that's faulty? Cos I believe that you were trying to swear but everything came out weird."

"Argh. Okay, look, so here's the thing: someone went and tinkered with my Synesthesia Beacon, so now every time you muddle-fudgers hear me chinwaggin' with some fudgin shirtbags, it's all a bunch of "fudge this" and "fork that..." See what I'm sayin'?"

"Holy forkeroni. That must have fudgin sucked."

"Now yer speaking my language."

"How long you'd been here?"

"One fudging week. You?"

"Three forkin' days. My job requires me to retrieve the Iglerix's ultimate weapon."

"Fudge me, what a coincidence, I'm here to wipe those muddle-fudgers that use that same ultimate weapon to wage senseless wars against the other inhabitants. Son of a nice lady, why don't we team up? You get the weapon, and those varmints are mine."

"Deal."

"This ain't my first rodeo into this place, but for the fudgin' life of me I can't seem to find my way around," Boothill led the way forward as the newly formed duo infiltrated deeper into the military facility. "There's this screwubbaboo mechanism that fudgin' reorganises the layout of the entire place every forkin' hour – yes, you heard that right honey– the place rearranges itself."

"Then how in the holy flyin' forkeroni do the people here get around?"

"That's what I'm tryin' to find out. There gotta be a method these bellied dogs use to get around the place designed by some lovely son of a bench," Boothill informed. "Where yer from, partner?"

"Have you heard of Velura by any chance?"

"Ain't heard of Velura before."

"I guessed as much."

The duo carefully ventured deeper, taking great care to avoid the patrols and bypass the security cameras, and Zind finally saw for himself what Boothill meant by the places rearranges itself.

Quite literally.

"This is like some fudgin' cool CGI from some sci-fi movie, except that it's real."

"That's why I wanted to get myself a darlin' to guide me inside, but we fudgin' found each other instead. So pal, any bright ideas?"

"You said that you are here to wipe the muddle-fudgers who's the reason why this planet is in a fudgin' war. Can I assume that you don't require anyone alive?"

"So yer sayin' that we just forkin' blow the place up into smokes? Might be dangerous, cos while I was eavesdropping around these parts I heard a bae say that this son of a bench ultimate weapon might be volatile. One wrong move and we would fudgin blow a huge crater into this forkin' planet big enough to be seen from space."

"I'm just suggesting that if getting ourselves an unlucky muddle-fudger to guide us into the place is not an option, then we might as well just blow those fudgin' moving walls apart. I have a very good guess where the exact location of the weapon is; I just don't know how to get through these forkin' walls to get to that location and I will need to gather some muddle-fudgin' good ol' fireworks enough to burn down these walls. No need to worry about accidentally blowing up the fudgin' weapon in the process, I'm a certified expert and I have confidence that I can control the output."

"Sounds like a plan," Boothill agreed with a toothy grin. "Coincidentally, I know just where to get these good ol' fireworks. We're gonna have a great show."

As secretly as they had come, the two fudgin' duo made their way out of the secret Iglerix facility undetected and embarked on a search for explosives that could tear down those lovely moving walls that hid the ultimate weapon. Their search for explosives had somehow led them to encounter someone who hails from a faction that they least expect to run into in a backwater place like Certh-S11.

"My name is Argenti, I belong to the Knights of Beauty. May this rose convey my heartfelt salutations."

"Fudge my marbles, what in the forkeroni is a Knight of Beauty doing here?"

As it turns out, the war of injustice waged by Iglerix had also attracted a righteous member who had sworn to embody and uphold the philosophies of Aeon Idrila, the "Beauty". All three of them came with the similar intentions to foil the Iglerix's plans and stop these senseless wars, and thus started the unlikely friendship between the three most unlikely people who differed very greatly from each other in terms of personality: A righteous practitioner and preacher of his faith, a cowboy of vengeance, and a money grubbing merc.

"I didn't hit the books much when I was young. Can some lovely fudger help set up a group chat for convenience sake?" Boothill suggested and Zind helped create a group chat within seconds. He took a few seconds to ponder over what he should name this chat as.

–

Three Bs

Beauty, Bullet, Bumpkin

Zind : [test test]

Boothill : [aye it fudgin works]

Argenti : [Excellent, my dear friend! Our cause to stop the war that plague this planet is one more step closer to fruition!]

–

"Alright, we got the fudgin' raw materials to make those forkin' explosives," Boothill declared after he returned from one of his supply runs that he previously promised would get them more of what they needed. "Hey darlin', how's it going on your end?"

"D-Darling?" Argenti looked shocked, feeling that his breath was stolen when Boothill called him using such an affectionate term.

"Yes, you, honey. You with the cute shinin' armour. Who else in the forkeroni would I be calling but you?"

"H-Honey?" Argenti looked as if his heart was shot with an arrow, for he had no former experience nor had anyone ever referred to him so casually with such affectionate terms.

What… is this feeling? That tightness in his chest, the shortness of his breath? Is… Is this the beauty that Idrila speaks of?

"Boothill, your beauty is just as dazzling– it shines even brighter than those of my own. The silver of your metallic body, they speak of the beliefs you fought to uphold. I'm honoured to fight alongside you, my angel," Argenti flickered and suddenly stood before Boothill, holding his hands in a pious clasp and a rose held in his mouth. Boothill looked suitably confused but his brain was unable to process what Argenti was trying to say with his fancy words.

So he simply nodded and confusedly accepted the rose which Argenti passed into his cybernetic hands.

"O-Of course. I'm fudgin' honoured too, sweetheart."

"My angel…"

"Sweetheart...? Yer okay?"

"I will be fine, I was just captivated by your alluring charm, my angel."

"Alright, darlin', let me know if yer feeling unwell, I still remember some forkin' remedies from my homeworld that works fudgin' wonders."

"This… This looks wrong somehow," Zind mumbled under his breath while he was busy manufacturing his own brand of handmade explosives at the corner of the shack that the trio were using as their temporary hideout. He has a feeling that a forkin' beautiful understanding had bloomed between his two new pals but it's not his place to point it out.

A few more days were spent making those bombs, a task that Zind undertook, while Boothill and Argenti went back to the Iglerix facility several times to do some recon work in order to plan their infiltration route and the best spots to plant those good ol' fireworks on the big day. D-Day soon came, the trio infiltrated the facility once more in their quest to stop this senseless war plaguing Certh-S11 to achieve their individual goals, planted those good ol' fireworks all around the place to express their forkin' love, and waited for the right time to start the show.

"So who wants to press the forkin' button?"

"Anyone would do. You want to do it? Okay at the count of three: three– What the fork Boothill? Why did you forkin' press the button already?!"

"You didn't say you'd count to three!"

"You didn't wait for me to complete my forkin' sentence!"

Aside from that little interlude, the resulting fireworks were glorious, breathtaking, beautiful, and magnificent. The walls that obstructed them from accessing the ultimate weapon to stop this war were torn down and the trio fearlessly charged into the blaze. The moving walls might have been breached, but that didn't mean that they had taken down all the defences within this facility.

"C'mon ash-voles! This one's on me!"

Anyone who dared stand in their way were mercilessly gunned down by the cowboy. Those that somehow escaped his shots were elegantly dispatched by the knight, and artillery fire that might have burned them in hellfire were easily stopped by the bumpkin from Velura.

"Found ya," Boothill declared with a bullet between his teeth when the trio finally located the secret weapon of mutually assured destruction hidden deep underground. "So partner, how'd you plan on retrieving it?"

"This unsightly contraption… it houses a stellaron, it must be the power source powering this evil weapon," Argenti spoke with a frown and turned to Zind. "This is what you were planning to retrieve?"

"My client wanted to retrieve the stellaron so that they could seal it. I know what you want to say– I know full well what the forkin' hell a stellaron is, my own planet was fudgin' infected by one until very recently– but my client gave me their complete reassurance that all they wanted is to seal it so that it cannot harm anyone else again. I wouldn't have agreed to take on this job otherwise. Such a noble cause is worth fighting for, don't you agree?"

"I place my trust in you, friend. If you are confident that the stellaron wouldn't be misused, then my lance shall fight for your cause," Argenti promised and Zind took out the contraption that he was given that could safely extract and seal the stellaron in a manner that he could bring back to the Stellaron Hunters' hideout.

"So I guess that this is the end of our day?" Boothill spoke. "Holy forkeroni, that was quite a wild ride, I'm actually a little sad now that everything fudgin' ended and we have to go our separate ways. I'm gonna miss you guys."

"To borrow words from Idrila's teachings: Your journey itself has meaning, everything is part of your journey; the destination is not everything so before you reach the end, keep your eyes open. Use the chance to take in the world around you and should the day ever come that we are not together, you will continue to shine like gold in my memories."

"What the fudge Zind? Since when did rose bae convert you into a cutie patootie Knight of Beauty? You were a forkin' non-believer!"

"He didn't, but you have to agree that some of Idrila's teachings do have profound wisdom in them."

"I'm deeply touched that the wisdom of my faith had resonated with your noble soul, dear friend," Argenti proclaimed amidst the burning facility which the three of them had played a major role in turning it into the sorry state that it's in now. "But may I suggest that we shift our conversations elsewhere before we bid our final farewells?"

"So let me get this straight: in the process of retrieving the stellaron at Certh-S11 you ran into not just a Galaxy Ranger, but also a Knight of Beauty? And the three of you co-op to complete the final stage?"

"Ah, fun times," Zind reminisced as fond memories of the last mission which he just returned from ten minutes ago briefly resurfaced in his mind. "I knew we could click when I first found them."

"A Stellaron Hunter, a Galaxy Ranger, and a Knight of Beauty appearing at the same place with similar intentions, what are the odds," Silver Wolf shook her head in disbelief before returning back to playing her mobile game. "Anyway, congrats on completing your first tutorial mission as a Stellaron Hunter. Remember to hand the stellaron over to Kafka to complete your quest, and you might want to text Sam; Sam had been waiting on standby in case he had to extract you out of there in the case of emergencies."

"What? Argh dammit, why didn't you say so earlier? If I'd known I would have created a forkin' emergency!"

"What's with the weird language? Did you accidentally damage your Synesthesia Beacon on your job?"

"You don't know the other half of it, sweetheart."

"Ew," Silver Wolf shivered and felt goosebumps crawling all around her skin. "Let's get things right. I'm not your sweetheart, that's Firefly."

"Damn straight, darlin'."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing too serious, cutie. Some muddle-fudger went and influenced my speech patterns, that's all. I should be back to normal in a while."

Nevertheless, Silver Wolf made absolutely sure to keep her distance from Zind for the rest of the day.