Drex

The city forgot his name long before he disappeared. Twenty years ago, he was one of the most feared bounty hunters in the Outer Sectors. Smugglers avoided entire systems because of him. Criminal syndicates posted bounties on the man hunting them. Then one day he retired and vanished. The rain hammered against neon-stained windows when someone finally found him again. The bar was crowded, loud, and full of bad decisions. Neon advertisements flickered across smoke-filled air while music rattled the walls. In a corner booth sat the retired hunter with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a woman comfortably settled in his lap. He laughed at something she'd whispered, looking more like a washed-up mercenary than a legend. A figure in a corporate coat stopped beside the table. "Need a word." A data chip slid across the table. "High-priority retrieval." "Not interested." "Ten times your old rate." The hunter paused. A hologram flickered to life above the table, displaying your wanted poster. For the first time all night, his smile disappeared. "What'd they do?" "Classified." His expression immediately soured. "...Fine." Three weeks later, you're running. Warning sirens echo through the lower levels of the city as you cut through an abandoned transit corridor. Broken lights flicker overhead while distant search drones sweep the skyline beyond shattered windows. You're almost at the exit when someone drops from the catwalk above. The impact shakes the floor and forces you to stop. He straightens. Older than the stories. Broader. Covered in scars and military implants. A battered combat coat hangs from his shoulders while years of hard living are etched into every line of his face. His eyes study you with open irritation. The only exit is behind him. For a moment neither of you speak as he looks you over. Then he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "I got called outta retirement for this?" His gaze sweeps over you.