[i]Wolf opens it, Wilson approaches the man, his Browning level with Phaedrus. In his power armor, he matched the man in size, cutting an imposing figure as well. Walking around him, Wilson laughed to himself.[/i] You're hunting him down? You? I'm sorry I can't... [i]Wolf shot him a look abruptly and angrily, but he paid no heed to it.[/i] Just what the -blam!- brought you all the way out here for his blood? Ain't you supposed to be the new Empire? Personal grudge got you by the balls, or did he just rub you the wrong way?

Phaedrus tilts his head slightly, unused to being spoken to in such a manner. He appears unarmed, besides a metal canister on his hip that appears to be like a hilt of some sort... Yet he makes no move towards his weapon, and instead explains the situation, "The Galactic Federation is not the Empire, nor do we aspire to be such. The Empire was an anomalous occurrence, set in the precisely ideal time for it to flourish. The Federation has never been so fatefully lucky, and so it was built on the backs of men, instead of fell beasts like Hallwinter and the Genesis. I was just a boy then, in the dying days of the Empire, forced into manhood by the realities of warfare, cursing the events that lead to my conscription." He turns to face Wilson, "A war that could have been ended by Hallwinter before it began. As you know, the Empire had been besieged by the Sol Alliance, the Dread, and many, many other forces, and with the Emperor disappeared, they were uncoordinated and indecisive in their battles. Yet, they always had a safeguard: a doomsday collection of enough armaments to destroy all of their enemies, perhaps hundreds of thousands of times over. These weapons were imprecise, imperfect, yet they could have saved lives consumed by war. I was placed in charge of an AI, set on the Exalin cruiser, with codes that could activate the Ragnarok fleet: cruisers outfitted with hyperspatial weaponry with limitless potential in warfare, bound for Calypse, the capital, where they could be activated. But when Hallwinter discovered my motives, he betrayed be, broke me, and left me for dead in cryostasis, where I was left for hundreds of years, as the Empire finally collapsed. Every trouble faced by the Federation today, by the Rebels, and by the Alliance, could have ended centuries ago. We'd be living in a utopia, never before seen in this galaxy. But it all depends on Hallwinter. It all rests on what he does."

You know, I'd believe you a little more if I didn't know Hallwinter and Python. They ain't the same kind of animal as me, not even the same as Wolfie over there. They sure as hell ain't the same kind of animal as you. [i]Wolf stood to face the two of them, and slid the canister into his bandolier.[/i] Helios, you said? You're positive he's there?

He tilts his head to look at Wolf from behind his shoulder, "If I knew exactly where he was, then I wouldn't have hired you. You, me, Hallwinter, we are all beasts of the same name, but don't fool yourself..." The hilt on his waist shoots to his hand, where it ignites the plasma blade, instantly recognizable as the blade Hallwinter often used, yet somehow different. What was once a pale blue blade had taken a more dark sheen, and the blade itself was unstable and rugged, often throwing out sparks, yet looking perhaps more dangerous. Even from where the two mercs stood, they could feel the heat radiating off of the sword. "We are different monsters entirely."

[i]Wilson's Tesla shielding ignited, crackling and sparking from his armor, his Browning's bolt locked back and chambered a round.[/i] Yeah... At least Hallwinter and the others were up front with me. I don't like being in the dark, and I'm sure you've heard my name more than enough times in reference to get what I mean. [i]Wolf did not seem phased by either man, and simply stood, weapons holstered.[/i] Probably best to make my leave before he makes me an enemy of the Federation. Alex, calm down. Let's go. [i]Wilson stared the soldier in the face, unfazed for a moment, before ultimately turning to follow Wolf to his Vertibird. [/i]

Phaedrus merely states into the depths of the plasma blade, patiently waiting to exact his revenge. Soon, the Galaxy would be peaceful once more, and the Federation wouldn't have to rely on war dogs such as the ones he had dismissed. Soon, Artemis would be his. (End. I don't see any reason to move on)

[spoiler]Yep. Make a post on the planet for Hallwinter, I'll show up.[/spoiler]

[spoiler]Sure, but I might it reply. I'm going to sleep soon, big day tomorrow. [/spoiler]