Age of Conflicts, 4189 A.D. 

[i]The savior of mankind was murdered over 100 years ago, and the galaxy has been fighting for survival ever since. 

Wars between worlds have broken out. Disease and strife are rampant within the systems. Technology that was once commonplace is now horded, more valuable than gold. To be a Noblemen is a life of constant intrigue and assassination, and to be a commoner is to live in utter toil and degradation. In order to survive, the Council has negotiated treaties with the Alien races of the Galaxy, and manipulated their wars to keep them at bay, but still barbarians from every corner threaten to overwhelm the scattered remnants of humanity. That is, if humanity does not destroy itself first...[/i] 

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The Messier 7, an open cluster of stars in the Scorpius Constellation. First discovered and given a second name by the Greek Astroner of antiquity, Ptolemy. Within this system is thousands of stars, holding hundreds of habitable systems and thousands upon thousands of worlds. Trillions of human citizens of the UHR (United Human Realms) dwell here, as do various Xenos under very loose treaties of alliance. The Ptolemy Cluster is ripe territory for the opportunistic mercenaries, privateers, and runaway felons that look to make some quick coin. One such world in the Valontus System is called Hodierna, a trading hub of every good imaginable. Ruled over by a group of Noblemen collectively called the 'Enclave,' living in sweeping palaces at the center of their vast manufacture-cities. Within one city, a Noblemen in need of a dark deed meets two unlikely tools for his cause...

Golran Ferenhall tapped his beweweled, fat fingers upon the railing in his private hanger, the guards holding both of their plasma rifles at the younger man between them. The dark haired rebel rubbing his wrists to get the feeling back in his arms from the cuffs, oblivious to the very real danger of the guns. 

"Do you treat all of your business partners this way?" Neil asked. He didn't even bother to look up at Gorlan, the balding (but hairy in most other areas) man would have executed a commoner on the spot for such rudeness. But despite his grimace, he showed a surprising amount of restraint when it came to the rogue pilot. 

"Only those who deserve it." He said, indicating the fact that Neil had a scheduled meeting, and instead had infiltrated the compound in one of the shipments of delectable foods heading for the palace. If he hadn't identified himself, annihilation was his only option as far as Gorlan was concerned.
"I got curious." 
"You got caught."   

"Not really. I felt the quickest way to see you was to get caught. Look, Gorlan. Can I call you Gorlan?" 
"No." 
"Listen Gorlan, you promised me a ship to see, and I am still not convinced you have something that's up to the quality you're advertising for." Neil said, placing his hands on his hips. It was a strange sight, the very casual looking guy standing before a resplendent noble and his military grade guardsmen. 

The Noble's eyes twitched, but to the Guardsmen's amazement, he had yet to order this boy's execution. "Indeed. I was simply hoping to wait for you to meet the Captain of the ship first. They have not seen the [i]Highlander[/i] either, and I thought it best you two should get a look together." 

"...Captain?" 

"Oh that's right, I forgot to tell you. Someone bid on the ship hours before you. Good thing they were looking for a crew. You have second in command, it seems." 

Garlen smiled viciously at having disrupted this street rat's plans for owning his own ship, and to his credit Neil did deflate at the proclamation. But after a moment, he seemed to bounce back with ne'er a pause. 

"Well, can't have everything." 

"Are you-...!?" Garlen began, before he heard a buzz within the wall next to him. Slamming a fat fist onto a button, the voice announced the Captain was being escorted into the hanger as they spoke. 
[@Penny]