[i][b]—— Earth-F67X: North Capital City: New Venice[/b][/i]

Dom sits down on a folding chair, a few slices of cold kielbasa on his styrofoam plate, an apt foundation to the mound of lukewarm sloppy joe and artificial cheese sauce. Great to pour into his gullet. He can see Han out of the corner of his eye, and notes she’s probably watching him, too. Manspreading, he has a free seat on either side of him. Nothing wrong with that, there are always more seats than people. He turns his gaze to the Dragon, who begins by saying:

[i]“There are several projects we’re considering, for those brave enough to pick them up. Cooperate on which ones you want, work out how you’ll achieve your objectives. I don’t recommend solo play. Always good to have another eye to check your plan for flaws. We don’t want them to look like victims.”[/i]

He glances at his notes, then, as if he’s repulsed by them, practically spits: [i]“An Azot performer over in Flatiron. Was processed by the portal security a few weeks ago, coming out of Ximbic. She’s stealing business from human buskers, dancers, and the like. That needs to stop.”[/i]

[i]“Next up, a would-be diplomat, probably a spy, from that alien prison camp across the pond, we’ve been observing him for a while. His schedule is on file. Seems he’s trying to negotiate better terms for the xenos in Allure. We can’t be having that, now can we? People need to know they stand on the side of humanity. That means we focus on our own before making life better for those murderous interlopers.”[/i]

[i]“Finally, a family of Mirr—those brass asses—got off a hyperlight shuttle from Veris, supposedly they’re part human, if we can even call those people who ran off to the Gnaritas System human anymore. Inbreds, if you ask me. Abominations. Anyway, I guess space is at a premium in Gnaritas, and they want to emigrate here. Let’s give them a reason not to.”[/i]