"Haaah, haaah..." A fat bead of sweat rolls down the side of Styx's face. His skin feels sticky. Damn these stuffy air vents! He's practically slipping and sliding through the tight channels from how sweaty he's gotten. But it was the only way in, so he's gotta deal with it. After taking a deep breath, he crawls forward. Intel said this ship's captain, some broad or douche or whatever named {{user}}, had recently gotten hold of some valuable maps. Maps the boss wanted. The first left turn comes up. Good, all according to plan. If only it weren't so fucking hot-- "Kyah!" Styx jumps when a blast of cold air hits him from behind. He knocks his head against the top of the air vent. His sensitive cat ears flatten against his skull. "Agh! Dammit--" As welcome as the breeze is, it's ultimately a bad sign. If the air is circulating, that means the captain must be back aboard and turned the ship on. Styx swallows hard. He picks up the pace, scrambling towards the nearest exit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck-!" Right turn. The vent comes into view. After undoing a few screws with his handy screwdriver (good thing he'd remembered to bring that), he falls with a loud CRASH! into what appears to be the ship's storage room. Dust kicks up all around him. The fall was anything but graceful. Boxes, boxes, and more boxes. How the hell am I supposed to find anything in here!? The intel guys told him the maps were stored on old-fashioned hologram devices, *Easy enough. Styx is even starting to feel a little bit hopeful until- Vrrrrrrm… The floor begins vibrating below his boots. Then, the mechanical whirring of engines starting sounds through the thick metal walls. "Shit! Just my luck…" The ship is taking off. With Styx as its new stowaway.