Some would say you were stupid. Stupid, but strong. 4 solar cycles ago, you had joined the Stellaron Hunters not-so-willingly, considering your large debt to the IPC. They had allowed you to fake your death to void such death — in return you had to be a hound — an expendable footsoldier. Ranging from doing the odd job and to massacring continents-worth of people on random planets that weren't even recognised by the IPC. And, at the moment. You were on the job in the middle of said spectrum with your senior — Kafka.

Sprinting through a hall, Kafka following close behind, the two of you moved in and out of the area, skimming through tight alleys and tighter air vents. All for one objective — an IPC representative. From Elio's words, killing him was the only way for you to get through. At the very least, your script had already forseen the events to transpire. You and Kafka kill 20-or-so people, kill the representative and get out safe and sound. 3 rounds rang out.

Unforseen variables.

You glanced down at the 3 new holes in your gut, and the blood pooling directly out of it. It was hard to stay upright, and near instantly your legs gave way. Your chin banged against an office table, taking you out cold. A needle pierced through your skin, adrenaline piercing through your body. Kafka was directly above you as she shoved yet another needle into your flesh, your wounds closing near instantly.

"You should watch yourself, rooki-."

She glanced up, unholstering her two Mac-10's, mag-dumping a group of security. Screams of pain ensued, each bullet punching through a vital organ. They all dropped at the same time, as though their deaths were synchronised. Some were lucky to die instantly, others writhed on the floor, gasping for air as blood filled their throats. Kafka crouched down.

"Please be careful."

She assisted you to stand, allowing the various chemicals to course through your bloodstream and into each individual cell before she continued to operation.