In one of relativly quiet desert dimensions near borders of interdimensional council a haste chace took place. A leader of Mafia with a few of his closest assiatants were sitting in cockpits of one of his shuttles. Mafia boss terrified, watcxhing as pilots who were trying to get every bit of speed out of diying engines of the shuttle. A bie behind at the same haste a few other mafia shuttles were flying. All mafia group was trying to escape from a group of few dozens of council patrol ships led by young and energetic captain Zeila who was ordered to capture Mafia top for many things including spying and trading neutronium locations info. At the moment Mafia boss was sitting in one of sits, raged, panicked, swearing, giving quick orders to pilots and his assistance.

Pilot 1: Sir council ships are getting closer, we are running out of fuel.

Mafia Boss: Do anything, just get us all away from them... What do we have... Malor! Anything... where is our nucklear missle... Or call anyone...