It's a little under an hour before sunset in Star's End Spaceport, and Alain is working hard -- that is, he is "supervising" hard labor from his seat atop a large crate in the corner of a small docking bay in the port's industrial district. The labourers are a wide range - several are Alain's knights, fellow countrymen of his - many others are various "hybrid" races including half-elves and one green woman with pointy ears and small tusks who you would swear was orcish, if not for the lack of poor hygiene and grunting. Every single one of them is among, as Alain puts it, "my people."

Aviator sunglasses shield his bright blue eyes from the orange rays pouring into the open docking bay, and he chews on a cigar and takes a look at the freighter while he waits for Wolvinator. She's one of the smaller classes of space freighter out there, and Alain is yet to decide whether her ruddy color is her paint job or an actual coating of rust. In spite of her rough looks, he's been assured Solorn's Revenge is a sturdy and reliable vessel, and she gives off that aura of dogged determination. Every worker is loading up lightweight pressure-sealed metal crates, all labeled Zeppa, Silver Mark or Kaldi.

Wolvinator slowly enters the spaceport, trying to 'fit in' the best he could as he enters, however everyone is a bit out of place in RhyDin. His long brown robe and oversized hood could easily resemble that of a Jedi as he makes his entrance, there was definitely a story behind his choice of attire, but that would have to be saved for another tale. His face is concealed from all in view in an attempt to conceal his identity, something he definitely holds dear. Black boots thud against the metal tarmac of sorts as he walks in a circular motion, pacing around the workers loading up the freighter.

"Either yer tryin' to be inconspicuous," he speaks in his usual gruff tone as he slowly approaches Alain's side. "Or you were low on cash when you were bargainin' a price fer transport."

The workers pay him no more than a couple of glances - it appears they're expecting him. Alain's grin goes crooked, and he carefully slips off of the crate to shake Wolvinator's hand. He's still got a little bit of a limp, but there's no cane in sight.

"She's a sweet deal, and she's rubbed off on me. Never mind the captain has just the reputation I'm looking for..." He pushes his sunglasses back into his hair with his thumb and grins wider. "...but I'm not sure that reassures you any."

After shaking his hand Wolvie takes to looking at the vessel for a closer inspection as Alain spoke. His eyes scanning over the hull, and a hand appears from his robe to roughly rub his pointer and middle finger against it, obviously checking for signs of rust. Turning back around now, he lowers the hood to his robe to finally reveal his face as he looks back to Alain.

"If yer the one shippin' this stuff, I'd definitely say that the only one that needs reassurance at the moment… is you."

A smile appears on his face as well, and it was actually more of a smirk.

"I was doin' a check over ship manifests today, takin' off from Stars End, and I was sorta surprised to see a 'DeMuer' listed for departures today. Figure… I need to check this one out for myself."

He chuckles and hobbles his way over to the ship. Turns out it's not covered in rust at all, but some kind of weird grime... It smells pretty funky. Alain takes one whiff and backs off a few steps. "Surprise surprise, huh... Everything sorted out on your end - your people have shipped their trade or will soon?"

He turns his head to look directly at Wolvinator. "Those precious metals couldn't be arriving at a better time."

There is a long waited for nod, as Wolvinator is apparently wincing from the smell of the hull. His heightened sense of smell could be a blessing at some times and other times, like this, it's definitely a curse. Taking a few steps back he turns to look at Alain once more.

"As per your request, I've managed to setup some Federation Civilian distributors that are interested in testing out your product in select markets."

As he speaks, his accent seems to change. When he initially arrived, he spoke in a street-tough New York accent, and the moment it comes down to business he immediately sounds like a well-trained diplomat. Obviously, these two men both are masters of their own disguises.

"I appreciate this, Wolv - I hope this looks good on you back home," he nods to him, and turns back to the freighter again. It's almost finished being loaded.

"I never thought I'd get involved in space shipping, either. Any space investment where I came from was a pipe dream."

"If it goes bad, well then… you could guess how it's gonna look on me back home." He chuckles then before continuing.

"Well, I used my pull to expedite the sale, as per your request. Call it another sign of good faith on my behalf."

Wolvinator looks up, just taking in the surroundings as he thought about Alain's last statement.

"That's one of the reasons I am here I suppose you could say, to ensure that RhyDin's galactic trade and shipping lanes are free and protected. You'd be surprised what sorta clowns would love to waltz into this place and start an embargo, or try to hijack shipments."

"They'd be hard-****ing-pressed," Alain says flatly, as he finds another place that is not the strangely grimy starship to lean. "...Anyone in our neighborhood?" He has to know, now that it's been brought up.

Using his head to motion to the left, almost as if he's noting someone in that direction.

"You have the Exodii system, about two systems over. They're definitely inhabited, although they've setup shop on RhyDin as well."

Then his head motions to the right.

"Mostly everything else, is outside the Nebula, and depending where exactly yer from, that could mean something or nothing. On my side of the Nebula, that means… something… unfortunately."

He rubs at his jaw, staring out at the sky while Wolvinator gestures one way, then another.

"...I'm small-time, just a businessman, Wolv. I've got several businesses, but when you look at it, I don't have a lot more than that. ...But I definitely support RhyDin as a free city. Personally I trust no one who walks into this city to set up hard and fast rules... RhyDin is its own city with its own ways."

Fingers take the cigar and tap it until a big chunk of ash falls to the concrete floor. "Is there something I should know about here? Be on the lookout for?"

"Yeah, and I'm just some guy that walks around in a robe," he playfully says to Alain, using an analogy to carefully note how many other things that the man could possibly be, and to comment on other things that Alain could be involved in.

"There's danger everywhere, as you know just from living in this city. The problem with space however, is that it's much more… vast." He gave Alain an upnod, and leaned against a crate, as if he were getting more comfortable to answer his question much more in depth.

"You gotta 'nother one of those?" Looking down at the cigar.

"Storytime, is it," Alain says with a faint smile and offers over another cigar from his shirt pocket, then a light. No cutter - teeth will have to do.

Apparently… teeth aren't a problem. As quick as he takes to the cigar, he bites off the end, and spits it out opposite of where they're sitting and where the men are working. Taking the light, he fires up a nice puff of a red cherry, before eyeing it.

"Not bad, you sell these too?" He questions before taking another puff.

"Alright, story time." His hands move to gesture as he speaks, helping him to tell the story.

"Outside of the Nebula, or the RhyDin nebula as we call it, is a small Star System known as Lylat. It isn't Federation territory, yet it is however a Federation Ally. They've been known to get into border disputes from time to time, and they are very touchy when it comes to happenings within their own system. They don't, however, dispute trading or shipping lanes in any way. In fact, they're the first stop for yer freighter ya have there."

Puffing on the cigar again, he exhales a richly filled gray smoke and licks his lips.

"Then there's the Neo's."

New enemies. Alain should have expected this. A long, smoky sigh leaves his nose while he listens. The workers finish their work, and Alain says, "Don't wait up for me."

They file out.

"They've been a problem for a while," he continues, watching the men leave from their occupation.

"They aren't exactly neighbors with the nebula, but they're not out in left field either. A few months back they apparently showed an… unusual interest in Lylat, and even took to launching some probes into the Nebula. I guess they were wonderin' just why those big bad Federation ships go into the Nebula and don't remerge for days, weeks or months on end."

Another puff on the cigar before he takes to holding it in-between his two forefingers. A quick snap of the fingers, and the ash evenly falls off of the leaf to the floor.

"As far as we know, they haven't figured out how to enter the Nebula and my guess is… they were givin' it a try. After I was called in to Lylat, I stepped up patrols of the system with their… permission of course. And I have at least one vessel on this side of the Nebula at all times, just to keep an eye on things."

"And these feds, whoever they are... they take the same hands-off approach as Lylat?" He's deduced that so far, but he wants it confirmed.

Another inhale, and another long drawn out stream of smoke is pushed from his lips.

"The Feds?" He lets the words roll off his tongue, not a word that he's used to hearing when describing the Federation.

"Yer lookin' at the Feds bub. How hands off do ya think we are?" Once again a smirk appears on his face.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "You know what I mean by hands off - let RhyDin run its own independent course."

Chuckling along with DeMeur he nods in agreement with him.

"We believe in the sovereignty of the system. It was my original assignment to assess the planet for possible membership into the United Federation of Planets. You could imagine what my answer to that question was.

"As far as being hands off, most certainly. That doesn't mean we won't protect outside threats from reaching the planet."

There is smoky laughter at the idea of RhyDin joining anything like that, or joining anything at all. Best Alain can tell, this world answers to no one, inside or out.

"You can deny it if you like, but we both know it... I owe you, twice. And you think these 'Neo's' might give your people some headaches. ...If you give us names, faces and some other information, we can keep an eye out for them."

"Big," he starts in. "About eight feet tall. They don't have hair, not on the top of the head, nor eyebrows nor anywhere else. They have blue skin, slightly darker than the sky's color on a clear day. Four fingers on each hand, and four toes, they're… huge."

His hands move about to assist him in providing dimensions.

"They all look alike, literally. You can get used to who's who by looking at them, but that takes time. It's definitely of those 'ya seen one ya seen 'em all' sorta things. The only real way to determine whose who, is by their brood marking, that's located on their forehead."

Wolvie pauses for a moment to think.

"I do have some of the… higher profile Neosapiens pictures available, I believe."

"This may be out of my league," he says very truthfully, "but you give me the information, and I'll see what I can do. Star's End isn't really my neighborhood, but... Well, hopefully they won't be a problem to begin with."

His arms stretch out, and he sighs, shifting upright from his lean and thinking about where he parked his bike. "If it's not one thing, it's another, huh."

Nodding to his question, he once again agrees with him.

"That's fer damn sure. But look… you asked, so I told ya. They're my problem, let me take care of the skies, you take care of what you need to down here. If we woulda been handelin' this little deal a few months or so back, I woulda told ya it was smooth sailin' from here on out. But, things can't be too easy, know what I mean?"

Sticking the cigar into his mouth know, he holds it firmly in-between his molars so that he can continue to talk with little effort.

He starts to walk out, waving Wolvinator on after him. They can at least talk until he reaches his bike. The crew of the freighter begin to file into the docking bay - rough-looking bunch, but really, would Alain hire any other kind of crew?

"Know of any specific ways around the Neo's are looking for right now? Doesn't sound like they'll have any luck with this Lylat business."

Wolvinator looks behind him as the workers once again appear, analyzing them for a moment before he follows. They're definitely a mean looking bunch, no doubt about that, and it almost makes the Admiral feel like he should be looking out for them, rather than working alongside them.

Following DeMuer now he speeds up briefly to walk alongside him to continue their conversation.

"To be honest, after the Defense of Lylat we haven't seen them much. I'm not sure If the heightened patrols have scared them off, or if they actually got enough information to throw in their think tanks. One thing is certain however, the only way to get to this planet from where I'm from… is through that Nebula."

"Then it's smooth sailing." He smiles grimly as they approach his bike, an old Vincent Black Shadow. "All they can do is smuggle in a few spies, and spy games are just my speed - never mind big blue spies are going to stick out like a sore thumb." He almost says, What could go wrong? But his tone says it for him.

His cigar falls from his fingers, and he stomps it out and climbs onto his bike. "Got your own ride, Admiral?"

"They're definitely a sore thumb, a large… sore… thumb."

He smiles, hearing the Admiral title thrown at him. First time Alain had called him that, that was for sure.

"I do indeed Detective. Something…," pausing he gazes over Alain's bike, "kinda similar to this. Gotta admit, I like yer style. But I'm gonna stick around here fer a few, just to make sure things continue to go smoothly, 'specially if yer speedin' off."

He's not the only one speeding off. Back in the docking bay, the engine of the freighter roars to life, and it really roars. Sounds like the hunk of junk can haul some ass. "Fair enough - see you around." And he's silent once the helmet goes on, even moreso when he starts the motorcycle's engine.

Once sure Wolvinator is far back enough, Alain peals out into the street, popping a quick wheelie to start out and rapidly picking up speed as he leaves Star's End. It's old-fashioned, but it can still move.

Watching Alain for the moment, his eyes immediately go skyward to watch the freighter lift off. The fabrics of his robes begin to wickedly blow backwards from the pressure of the repulsors while the ship ascends. The engines light up the ground brightly from the initial thrust before they lower down to a glow. After a few more moments the winds die down, and Wolvinator taps his chest lightly the moment the sounds dies down.

From what seems to be nothing but a robe, there's definitely something beneath where he taps as a small chirp sound immediately responds to his touch.

"Wolvinator to Xavier."

"Yes, go ahead Admiral." A deep male voice responds from his chest. He has a light accent, perhaps British, however it isn't as thick as some accents might be considered.

"The Solorn's Revenge… is away."

"Roger Admiral, we'll begin the initial escort once she's cleared the system."

((Co-written with the player of Wolvinator))