[b][u] Columbia City of New Landing Neon Tipsy Bar, Upper levels [/u][/b] [img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/77/19/a6/7719a656eb32d467bffd09d71becdfb1.jpg[/img] Malcolm Talis, a tired and worn-out man in his early sixties laid against the wall of a moving elevator as it made its ascent to the classiest and most expensive bar you could find in this city. The occasion? Malcolm had just returned from a rather somber get-together, a real close friend, practically a younger brother, had recently passed away from complications. Attending his funeral with his family, friends and surviving members of their platoon, and after that depressing reminder of all their mortality, he needed one hell of a drink. So, Malcolm and the rest of the crew had decided to throw a little drinking party in his honor. The aged Malcolm maintained his balance as he heard the "bing" sound from elevator. The doors sliding open to reveal bright neon lights, they really wanted to put an emphasis on the bar's namesake that's for sure. Malcolm scanned his surroundings, taking in the atmosphere, jazz-like music was booming in the air, followed by soothing scents of various strong drinks. The bar was half-full, its patrons were a varied sort, ranging from "fellow" navy officers, though by the looks of them, they were a bunch of upper-class suits, city boys wanting to play soldier, to suits of the business variety, both shady and legitimate sat in another corner, all drinking to their hearts content. All the while, in the left corner stood a little stage of sorts, two young, quite attractive women were singing in soothing tones. Malcolm continued scanning the room until he took notice of a Urkani man hand waving to him, turning to that direction to see a trio waiting for him, the aforementioned Urkani, and two humans, a woman and a slightly younger man. Malcolm walked over and sat down as he grabbed a glass; he was fashionably late enough to have his drink ready. "Glad you could make it, Geo." the aged woman, Isana Talis, his wife called him by his old callsign, bumping her shoulder against his. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." Malcolm replied as he bumped back. "Love you too, darling." "With that." Binat, the Urkani spoke, raising a glass. "A toast to Sanders." "May he find peace forevermore." Gideon, the other human spoke. "To the Gravemakers." Both Isana and Malcolm said, the four of them clashing their glasses together and begun gulping down their drinks. An hour had passed, the four, having been separated for a number of years had much catching up to do. "So, how's the family doing?" Binat asked the couple. Malcolm and Isana looked to one another before turning their attention to their old friend. "Doing well." Malcolm replied. "Called Jade an hour ago, we were going to have a personal holiday together..." Malcolm paused, once more looking to his wife. "...but me and Isana agreed now wasn't the best time...the grandkids were mighty disappointed." "Yeah..not in a festive mood either." Gideon said, gulping down another glass. Some more time passes as the Gravemakers took it all at a slowed pace, a large hologram screen brightened up as the daily news reports came in, a rather imposing Dhulrak Anchor appearing. "The Zetan War has reached a standstill as coalition forces-" "Just like out of the old history books." Malcolm said, chugging down another drink. "As soon as we found each other, someone was bound to stir up some shit." "I have to admit." Binat said. "Those Zetans...they creep the hell out of me." "I wonder if the whole abduction story is true?" Isana wondered, twirling her glass. "Gives me the chills thinking about it." "Personally? I don't care much to dig any deeper." Gideon interjected. "All I know is that I don't trust those cogheads." While the Gravemakers were busy chatting some more, they had failed to notice a young stranger approaching from behind, having just arrived from the elevator. "Captain Talis?" the stranger spoke. The four turned to see a human man in his mid thirties, wearing a fine suit. He extended his hand outward to the captain. "The name's Leon Severis." He declared. "Could you and your associates come with me for but a moment?" Leon requested of the group. "It won't take long." [hr] Some time had passed, the group driving around the city in a rather spacious hover limo. The Gravemakers sat rather comfortably on one end of the hovercar. Facing them on the other end was this Mister Severis. "So, why'd you drag us out here?" Malcolm asked, honestly intrigued by this point. "I suppose it would be fair, you've waited long enough." Severis said as he cleared his throat. "Are you familiar with the recent conflict occurring the Zeta system?" Leon asked rhetorically. Malcolm had quickly shifted from intrigued, to confused. "...yes... Why'd you bring that up?" "I'll get to the point, I've come on behalf of certain parties." Leon said, keeping his ties and allegiance vague, for now. “Parties who have a vested interest in participating in this rather historical conflict, and to see the culling the threat the Zetans pose." "And that threat would be?" Malcom asked, not convinced. "The threat of changing what it means to be human." Severis said, his eyes drifting to binat. "Or xeno for that matter." He paused for a moment, continuing. “Out of all the colonies discovered, the Zetans are by far, the most technologically advanced and how they used that technology scares the hell out of people.” Fear of the unknown. The most deep-rooted, basic, and primal of human emotions, both a boon and a bane to all of mankind, and no doubt the catalyst of many wars and atrocities throughout all of creation. It is a fear that is well understood by the gravemakers and many others. Doesn't help that propaganda films the ECU shipped throughout the galaxy for months have fueled that unease and distrust. Malcom remained silent, having no means to rebuke, leon continued. "The Coalition may have won the battle but the war is far from over. The Zetans may have other plans up their sleeves." "...And what does this have to do with me exactly?" Malcolm asked. Leon smiled, possible progress was made. "You were considered a quite the maverick among your peers in the marines, men and women serving under you have commented on your unorthodox, but efficient command. Such an seasoned and flexible officer would be a...valuable asset to our cause" "So...you want to hire us?" Malcolm asked, a little offend. "Son, I think you're terribly mistaken. We're no hired guns, and sure as hell don't plan on being such." "Such a crude term." Leon replied. "I like to think of it as...one time contractors." "Regardless. Why not look for [i]real[/i] mercenaries?" "My benefactors demand a more...creditable face for our little operation. Decorated war heroes such as yourselves would do just that, and they assure you, you will be compensated VERY handsomely." Malcom looked to his crew as they silently deliberate on their next course of action. In truth, yes, Malcom never really trusted the zetans, many citizens within the URC thought the chancellor's actions were naïve and possibly foolish, opening the doors to Columbia to a potential threat, fearing a repeat of the Yulzan War. Isana gripped onto Malcom's hand. "What do you say, hun?" She asked. "One last hoorah for the gravemakers?" Malcom thought deeply further...and he and the rest aren't getting any younger, one last mission, for sanders. Malcom matched his eyes to Leon as he gave a confirming nod. Leon smirked, mission accomplished. "Thank you." Leon said. "An Officer of your talent and skill will be of great use for the Volunteer task force to come." "And what role will we play in all this?" "Well, for you, captain, you'll be the Operational Commander." Leon replied. "You'll be giving a ship, crew and additional volunteers to assist you in your mission. You will be doing all of mankind and xenokind a great service in this endeavor."