[hr][center][h1][color=000000] Tiberius Thrax[/color][/h1][/center][center] [i] Collab between Kingfisher and his good friend himself [/i]
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Thrax’s crimson uniform always seemed to be stained with ash. He kept himself healthy, and his attire crisp, but a stray flek from his cigarette would often worm its way through the air, leaving a small white smear on the otherwise pristine suit of red. 

The Captain of the Overseers took one last drag from his cigarette, feeling the grimy rush of nicotine flood back into his lungs, before casting it to the ground, and stomping out the final hiss of flame with the heel of his boot.

Brandon Karras rounded the corner a few moments later, slipping into a patch of artificial light, and wading over to the smooth stone wall that Thrax was stood by. He was a tall, broad man. Bigger than Thrax, with coarse brown hair, and a scarred face.

“You’re brave to come alone.” Karras grinned, flashing a sharp, white smile. 

“I could say the same for you.” Thrax replied in his usual dry manner. 

“You trying to scare me, hawk?” Karras snapped, something feral flashing in his dull grey eyes.

“What’s this all about, Karras?” Thrax asked calmly, unflinching in his demeanor “I can’t just slip away without being noticed.” 

“Thought I might call in a little favour, Thrax,” Karras said with a dark smirk “given how me and the boys helped you out with Mister McGarth, ‘un all.” 

Thrax sighed internally. 

“I don’t have time for this, Karras. Order needs to be maintained.” 

“Oh, you’ll make time for me, father hawk,” the large man hissed “or there will be repercussions.” 

Thrax paused, slipping both hands into his pockets. 

“Was that a threat, Karras?” He asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“You bet it was, hawk.” 

Thrax’s eyes flickered shut, as he afforded himself one brief moment to simply relax and breath.

“That’s all I needed to know.” 

With a flash of steel, Tiberius Thrax bolted forwards, the blade of his combat knife swooping through the air, as it came sweeping out of his coat pocket. Before Karras could react, the cold, sharp steel was biting into his neck, digging through flesh, whilst an eruption of dark red blood bubbled out of the neat tear that the blade had made. 

Karras swayed, but Thrax caught him as he fell, wrapping his arms around the larger man’s body, and slowly easing him to the ground. 

“That was a rather stupid thing to say, Karras,” Thrax sighed, as the convict coughed and jolted, blood trickling out of his mouth “and I’m afraid it's cost you dearly.” 

[hr] 

About a week or so later, Thrax was taking a drag from his third cigarette of the day, stood not too far from one of the Muse's theatres, as a steady procession of colonists began to file into cover, spurred on by the dull ringing of one of the colony's watch bells. 

Out of the rabble came Callahan, the so-called "Spartan King" of the Vanguard. 

[color=B8860B] "Aw... The Big Bad Wolf ain't so big and bad now, [b][i]is[/i][/b] he?!"[/color], the Spartan chuckled, patting Thrax on the head. 

"How about you keep your hands on that lovely wife of yours, and away from me, Callahan?" Thrax snapped, shrugging the vanguard off "Last time I spoke to one of you types I was a hawk, but now it seems I'm a wolf. If only your kind were half as good at doing your job, as you were at forgetting which type of animal you've decided to brand me as."