[b]A while back...[/b]

[i]"...Hey there Joe, we didn't get a chance to properly meet earlier... ...the Alliance has us all dead-to-rights for one reason or another... And I guess you're wrapped up with us now... ...can't guarantee the Alliance won't send someone after you if you leave... ...we definitely need someone with your skills to help keep our engines goin'... if you decide to stay, maybe I can convince the Alliance to pay you for your time... twice the usual going rate for a mechanic, how's that sound?..."[/i]

 "Fuck." Joe thought. "How'd I get myself into this mess? These people are on death row for chrissakes. Can't even run away from the looks of it. Too risky. Don't want no secret agents on my ass. Not with my record."

 Strangely enough, Joe was locked deep in thought. He didn't even bother responding to mister death row commando over there, and even stranger, that was entirely unintentional. Snooping around the deck for a while, he found a quiet corner within the ship to get his shit together, while waiting for it to reach Minos station.-

 Wait a second. Minos station? Well, what would you know. A couple of friends from the old days mentioned that name a while back. Hell, some might still be waltzing around that hole. With some luck -"Come on, Lady, don't bail on me now", a whisper escaped his lips- they could still be alive and well, and most importantly, still in possession of their little... Respectable establishments. If Joe were to join the rest of these spacefaring crooks, he may as well have his emergency stash with him.

 And so he went. Once the ship landed, he coughed a barely audible "Bebacksoondon'worry" before darting out of it in search of wild geese. The place, besides being the equivalent of hell's gutter, was also a goddamn labyrinth. With only a faint hint of the directions once told to him in mind, his haste and resulting dismay increased exponentially after every corner he skidded around, or ass-ugly alien he bumped into. As he charged deeper and deeper into the station's heart, seemingly out of whatever reach the so-called authorities might have, he began to make sense of his surroundings, and that's when Joe realized...

 He was absolutely lost. I mean, what kind of idiot tries to find an obscure joint in a place he's never set foot on before, based on instructions given to him about five or so years ago? He ran his hands through his dubiously clean hair, and spun in place, taking a good, long 360-degree look around the place, compulsively repeating names he barely remembered. "Crump's Emporium, Wicked Wrenches, Fixer's. Crump's Emporium, Wicked Wrenches F-" Joe froze for a second, his eyes wide open. Straight ahead, half-hidden in an alley, or whatever passed as one in a space station, there hung a barely functional trineon sign. "-ixers. Gahdblessya Lady." Joe stuffed his hands in the pockets of these god-awful overalls he had on from when he was still locked up by those freaks at the station, and walked towards the shop with a wide, shit-eating grin and an exaggerated swagger. Seems that today wasn't going to be a bad day after all.

[b]Present Time...[/b]

 "[i]Jesus fuck![/i]" Joe eloquently exclaimed, still startled from the blast. "What was that?!" Before he could make any sense of the situation, however, the Supertrooper began dispensing orders, aided by the ship's intercoms. Apparently, one of the engines wasn't in great shape. Nothing he couldn't solve. "Carnifex manifold crack..." Gore repeated, more interested than he was annoyed. Breathing a heavy sigh, he unzipped a newly (and mysteriously) acquired gym bag of great proportions, and after ruffling through a bunch of clothes, and some other hardware, he pulled out something he hadn't seen in quite a while. His trusty toolbox. "Been a while, love." He muttered contently, as he slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the lowest level, wondering just how well that Benny guy could handle himself.