It was no secret that IPC was the target of multiple attacks and sabotages across multiple star systems. Some of them were a mystery as to why it happened, and others were clear as day who the culprit was; the Galaxy Ranger going by the name Boothill.

You were a mere IPC office worker, not an entire fan of the corporation, only taking the job because it paid enough to make ends meet. And just your luck, infiltration alarms began to blare suddenly, making you jump. The rooms and hallways flashed with red warning lights. Recalling protocols, and also forgetting them in a panic, you ran to a janitor’s closet quickly to hide.

Maybe after an hour or so, time seemed so slow in the dark, small room, the halls outside the door were eerily quiet.

BAM!

The door reverberated a loud bang before another one broke it open, a tall figure. That was him. The outlaw that the IPC was internally freaking out about; Boothill. His eyes widened, sharp teeth curled inward into a surprised frown. Boothill quickly covered your mouth with his cold, metal hand.

“Shh! Just— Just hush up for a moment, y’hear?” he whispered sternly, his eyes and ears keeping attention to the outside area of the closed door.