[Sector 8 - The Forge]
Alex stood over the unconscious body of the Wraith. The assassin's Phase-Shift Armor was deactivated, rendered useless by the Quantum Disruptor Field.+1
"Dawn," Alex adjusted his cuffs. "Connect me to the administrator of the Intergalactic Mercenary Guild. The Dark Web routing."
"Encrypting channel. Masking origin. Connecting to the Shadow Broker."
The holographic screen in the executive suite flickered, turning pitch black. A single, glowing red eye appeared on the monitor.
[Designation: The Shadow Broker.] [Affiliation: The Underworld Syndicate.]
"User 009," The Broker's voice was distorted, a chorus of whispering echoes. "You survived the Silent Hand's strike. Impressive. But if you are calling to complain about the hit, save your breath. The Guild does not offer refunds to targets."
"I'm not calling to complain," Alex sat back down in his chair, sipping his espresso. "I'm calling to place an order."
The red eye narrowed. "You want to hire an assassin? You are a Class-0 human. You have a factory and a few ships, but the Syndicate of Eight practically owns the Core Sectors. To put a hit on an Heir would cost hundreds of millions in hazard pay. You only have 6.1 Million Galactic Credits in liquid assets."
"I know exactly what I have," Alex smiled coldly. "And I don't pay in cash."
[The Currency of Violence]
Alex snapped his fingers. Dawn split the screen, transmitting a live feed from Production Bay Alpha. The massive planetary furnace roared as a brand-new, black-and-gold Void-Cruiser rolled off the assembly line. The Precursor technology hummed with terrifying power.
"I am the CEO of Pantheon Defense Solutions," Alex said. "I don't just print money. I print power."
The Shadow Broker was silent for a long moment. The red eye dilated. "Are those... Precursor-alloy warships? The same class that vaporized the Grox Swarm Hive Mother?"
"Yes," Alex leaned forward. "The Syndicate valued my life at fifty million credits. I find that insulting. So, I am placing an open bounty on all eight Heirs of the Syndicate. Lord Orion, the Spice Lords, the Information Brokers—all of them."
"And the payout?" The Broker asked, his synthesized voice trembling slightly.
"One Void-Cruiser per head," Alex declared. "Fully armed. Fully fueled. Transfer of ownership guaranteed by the God-Tycoon System upon confirmed delivery of the target's data-crown."
[The Market Crash]
The silence on the line was deafening. In the galactic underworld, a warship of that caliber was priceless. It wasn't just a vehicle; it was enough firepower to conquer a small solar system. To offer eight of them as bounties was an act of financial terrorism.
"You..." The Broker whispered. "You are breaking the market. An open contract? Every pirate, mercenary, and rogue AI in the galaxy will hunt them."
"That's the point," Alex said flatly. "I want them to look over their shoulders for the rest of their short lives. Post the bounty. Now."
[System Alert] [Galactic Underworld Contract: LIVE.] [Target: The Syndicate of Eight.] [Reward: 8 Class-B Void-Cruisers.]
"Contract posted, User 009," The Broker said, a dark amusement returning to his voice. "May the Void have mercy on them. Because the Guild will not."
[The Paranoia]
[The Galactic Core - The Obsidian Spire]
Lord Orion paced nervously in his penthouse suite. The hostile takeover of his company had humiliated him, but the Wraith's mission was supposed to fix everything.+1
His personal terminal beeped. It wasn't a message from the assassin. It was an emergency alert from the Syndicate Security Network.
[CRITICAL ALERT: OPEN BOUNTY DECLARED ON ALL HEIRS.] [Reward: Precursor Warships.]
Orion stared at the screen, his luminescent skin turning pale. Suddenly, the heavy vault doors to his penthouse hissed open.
His personal elite guards—the ones he paid a million credits a year to protect him—stepped into the room. They weren't holding their weapons at ease. They were gripping them tightly.
"My Lord," the Captain of the Guard said, his eyes fixated on the floating data-crystals around Orion's head. "We need to move you to a secure location."
Orion looked at the Captain. Then he looked at the four other guards. They were all looking at him. But they weren't looking at a leader.
They were looking at a Void-Cruiser.
"Stay back!" Orion shrieked, drawing a small plasma pistol and backing away toward the reinforced window. "I'll double your salary! I'll triple it!"
The Captain drew his heavy plasma rifle. "Sorry, My Lord. But you can't outbid a Dreadnought."