Welcome to Gaia! ::

watching carefully as the crew loads The Fortune's Fool onto the starship, Cyberwulf dimply hears the murmur from the crowd, all looking at him in fear. He remembers the days he used to crew on the Berretty, as well as it's unfortunate end. He wonders if any of his old friends survived. It didn't really matter, so far as he knew, he was the only one forced to live such an extended lifespan. He now counts his age up to about 1300 years. Sure, he spent about 500 of those entombed beneath the planet's crust living off of fungi, going slowly mad, but it is still a remarkable amount of time. No one knows how far back I go too... He thinks, looking back at some of the crowd all staring in wonder. "Perhaps this will give me a fresh start" He whispers as the crewman gives him the thumbs up.

As he tries to board the ship, he comes across security. "Please remove any and all metal objects on your person sir." The uniformed man tells him. Cyberwulf complies, removing his arm. The man twitches slightly as he places his arm in the tray, and then his jacket, lined with daggers, all sharpened to an atomic level. He removes his boots, and his goggles, and belt, empties his pockets, places his cutlass and gunblade, as well as a small hand held lazer cannon. The guard looks at him. "If you weren't who you are, I would confiscate all that." He says, scanning Cyberwulf again, the detector beeps. "Sorry mate, those would be a number of bullets embedded in my flesh." He says. The guard laughs. "Nobody has used projectiles since before the fourth coming of christ!" "Well, I can show you the scars if you like..." Cyberwulf says, beginning to remove his clothing. The guard stops him. "No, I'll just trust you. If you were going to kill anyone, you would have done so anyways by now." The guard says, waving him past. Cyberwulf gathers his belongings and boards.

Sitting down in a window seat, with another hour to launch, Cyberwulf drifts off to sleep as passengers board, taking their seats.

As they blast off into space, Cyberwulf stretches out and relaxes. Looking out the window, he sees how rapidly they had made it into space. "Wow, these things have really come along quickly." They pass planets, far too many of which were inhospitable. Some of which had strenuous terraforming projects on the surface, to try and allow expansion of civilization. He quickly drifts off to sleep, confident in the fact that they will arrive before he wakes up.

Fithvael quickly checked over his readings one last time. His ships on-board sensors picked up the dainty vessel almost three-hundred kilometers away. He had worked for weeks to narrow his nav-com this tightly, and it seemed to have paid off.
"That's my target," He said aloud in the the small single-seated cockpit. "Alright ANNA, drop her down to a quarter plasma shift, I'll guide her in manually from here." His ship quickly beeped it's acknowledgment before firing it's maneuvering thrusters, accentually slowing the crafts momentum.
Fithvael pulled hard on his ships control column, sending the craft into a hard-right snap-roll. He forced the stick down, dipping the nose of his tiny ship under his target. He slammed his bow maneuvering thrusters, pushing them almost to the point of burning out, as the nose of his ship came to rest under the belly of the target vessel.
"Alright ANNA, keep her running hot. I don't expect this to take long." His ship gave another chirp of acknowledgment as he slammed the glass canopies release, and quickly pushed himself up towards the other ship.
He effortlessly guided himself towards the docking terminal that housed the enemy craft. He had little to fear from the vacuum of space, after all he was a Vampire. But his zero-grav bio-suit ensured him protection against the natural dangers of space.
Upon reaching the primary-control-console, a quick glance over it's readings confirmed what he already believed.
"Gotcha," He said with a confidant smirk spreading across his smug little face. His hand moved behind him as he quickly slid out his favored weapon at the time... a pen. A small yellow notebook appeared --almost out of nowhere-- in his off hand as he eyed the slight reflective glint his badge gave off on the smooth surface of the ship before him. His smirk grew into a sadistic smile as he pushed his pen against the notebook and began writing down unknown evils. Yanking the sheet clean from his notebook he slammed it down with a heavy-hand against the canopy of the ship.
"And there ends my quota for the day..." He chuckled out as he bobbed his way back to his ship.
The small piece of yellowish paper read only one thing in bold, red letters: PARKING VIOLATION: FINE 300 GABBI.
That's right, Fithvael, is a Meter Maid.

"This area has been recently restricted due to pirate activity. You should have received an update before launch." Drake was, at least, bluffing that part seeing as three hours ago was when the actual incident occurred. He finally registered that protocol dictated he send in the report before further investigation. But of course he wasn't about to tell them that.

He noticed that when the specs refreshed, they came back with nothing but static. This was a sudden change, indeed, and rose Drake's suspicion.

"That ship you are carrying seems to be highly modified. I'll need the pilot's identification, or the flight will have to be redirected. If you comply, and the pilot's registry is clear, then you will be at your destination in a matter of... minutes."

"Officer Drake Hawk of the Galactic Police. Mr. Fairwynd, you are in possession of a dangerous piece of machinery. I believe that either yourself, or the entire ship, are part of the pirates responsible for the destruction of several cargo ships in this area.", Drake let off the mic, thumbing the name through his index. It was familiar, he knew, but where had he heard the name before?