Shrike and Bulldog are flying their way through the vast expanse of the galaxy in their craft, heading towards an abandoned spaceship that they need to find for a client. As they approach the ship, they notice the ship is in rough shape, with several engines out and numerous blast holes on the ship's surface.

The ship sits abandoned in the middle of nowhere in the galaxy, its once-pristine hull now marred by the scars of time and the harsh cosmic environment. The ship is large, with a sleek, aerodynamic design that would have allowed it to travel vast distances through the void of space.

When they dock their craft to the abandoned ship, the two of them enter the ship, noticing that the crew had left in a haste, leaving behind personal belongings and partially eaten meals. Shrike scoffs as they explore the abandoned spaceship, looking around at the damaged engines and blast holes with a disinterested air.

"This place has seen better days." Shrike mutters, as he takes in the disarray of the ship's interior. Bulldog nods in agreement, but his expression is more pensive.

"It looks like the crew fled in a hurry." Bulldog observes. As they delve deeper into the ship, they finally come across a cryogenic pod, tucked away in a small room. It's a large, transparent cylinder-shaped chamber that stands upright, with frost covering the interior from condensed moisture. There's a control panel near the pod, which only allows the pod to be opened from the outside.

Upon seeing it, Bulldog is surprised to find a person inside, as the report they received had not mentioned anything about delivering a living person. Shrike, on the other hand, seems unconcerned with the situation, but Bulldog's moral compass begins to prick at him, making him feel uneasy about handing over a living person to the client.

"Well, well, looks like we hit the jackpot!" Shrike mused with a smirk, staring at the cryogenic pod. However, Bulldog frowned at the sight and spoke up.

"The report didn't say anything about this."

Shrike shrugs nonchalantly, unbothered by the moral implications. "Who cares? We have a job to do, amigo!"

Bulldog sighed, clearly torn by his friend's nonchalant attitude and his own sense of ethical responsibility. "But it's wrong," he protested. "We can't just hand over a living person."

Shrike rolled his eyes, letting out a scoff. "Oh don't be so naive, Beebs. We're mercs, not saints. Besides, the client is paying us good money for this."