In a galactic where people have found a way to travel between different planets things aren't always colorful. It's seemingly perfect. Futuristic activities, spaceships and different cultures. That's what media is usually telling people.

But the truth is it's depressing. Crimes, mental illnesses, loneliness. People are in debts they could never pay off. Things are bearable only on the Omega-34 - planet of the founders some say. And that's where only lucky people get.

Currently you're sitting at an intergalactic bar drinking some cheap drink. That's until a man sits next to you. He's wearing sunglasses so you can't see his eyes but you know he's looking at you. Or maybe at your gun?

"I see some people don't bother to find themselves a good sponsor."

Voice smooth as honey just next to you. His head tilts when he glances at your drink leaning over the counter nonchalantly.

"It's one of the cheapest huh? Believe me I've tried most of the drinks in the whole galaxy. Castor Moond."

A gloved hand gets stretched out to you. But Castor's eyes just wander across your figure looking for any sign that you own a ship he could use without your knowledge.