[b]Pre-Slam[/b]

[b]Cosmic Era 70[/b]

[b]Somewhere[/b]

A group of men in normal suits move around energetically in a a generic hangar of some kind, their clothes identify them as neither ZAFT, ORB, or members of the Alliance. As if on cue, the activity comes to a halt, as one member removes his helmet, turning towards a door hissing open with the sound of released atmosphere.

A figure in a brown normal suit enters, their helmet obscuring their features, but not the Junk Guild emblem emblazoned upon their person. The figure approaches the group.

"Per your contract, I have delivered your cargo." He tosses a tablet to the man in front of him, who catches it deftly in the low gravity environment.

He looks it over, checking its contents against what appears on his own device. 

"It looks good, now as far as your payment goes..."

The Guild Tech nods in understanding, "I've already seen to the arrangements. Just fill out the necessary information and the credits will be transferred to my account."

The man tilts back his helmet, revealing a smirk for the lone figure. "Actually, I was thinking something a bit cheaper. Like free."

The brown normal suits head tilts to the side, as if in curiosity, "That is not in accordance with the contract."

"Ah, well," The man shrugs, before pulling out a Disco Pistol and leveling at the significantly taller figure in front of him, "I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement."

The Guild Tech's helmet nods in understanding, "I agree. Your ship and crew should prove to be an adequate compensation."

The unaffiliated man blinks slowly in confusion as the lights in the hold dim, filling the area in darkness. A loud clanging fills the chamber as the emergency lights kick in, bathing the room in red. A second later, vacuum takes hold of the individuals as a massive hole is cut through the ships hull, exposing the insides to space.

The Guild Tech reaches over as the rooms inhabitants begin to be pulled out, snatching his tablet back, his other hand shooting the stragglers with survival instincts, the shock of the gunfire causing them to forget to resist the pull. As his would be backstabbers are sucked into the void, Aaron Gentles fires a wire from his belt, anchoring himself to the ships hull as the forced depressurization comes to end as the atmosphere finishes being ripped out from the hull breach.

Maneuvering rockets take him through the hole, and into the waiting hands of his Astray Gold Frame.