It's been three months. Three months. He kept telling himself, yet he still has not found what he wanted to do with his new life. A war hero turned victim. His own actions kicked the smallest pebbles and caused a rather large landslide that lead to his demise.

A staged one at that.

Now... he found himself in the middle of nowhere, Freeport Fourteen, to be exact. A place that he's found refuge in countless of times during his years of service, and years of slander. A place that was typically quiet - where everyone kept to themselves and didn't care if you've saved the Prime Ministers life.

His dark brown eyes pierced through the unusually lively crowd that occupied the bar. An event of some sort that had brought out the vagabonds of the station, it seemed. Thankfully they kept to themselves, and to them... the dark haired man in the corner was just an average joe drowning himself away in alcohol.

The small alternations he's made to his hair and eyes seemed to do the trick to keep unwanted attention away from him. Although the task to maintain his image was tedious and annoying as his eyes constantly itched from the contacts. The end result, however, was what he favored. These people would never know that Austin Rodney Goodman was indeed very much alive, and hidden in plain sight.

Having left his previous life behind, Austin had taken up a new name, identity, and even a new profession. Preferring not to stick around in Bretonia with his fiancée and get caught up in a life of crime. He had no intentions on betraying his country any further than he has... and was done with the war altogether. His new profession found him heavily engaged in engineering, using his talents to help repair and maintain any and all vessels that came through the docks. While he didn't like a majority of the people that came to him for repairs, he couldn't complain... the job paid well enough, and credits were credits.

Lost in his thoughts, his eyes were now fixated on the emptiness of space that filled the viewing port he sat next too. It wasn't long until his thoughts scattered like a swarm of ants inside of a nest that was recently stepped on. Slightly shocked, he looked over to see a well-built and bearded man come crashing back first in the table he was occupying.

The force of the falling man was enough to cause the table to buckle, and the slightly disturbing sight of a dead man laid across the table, a single bullet wound to the forehead.

Austin's gaze turned from the body towards a group of men that stood nearby, one still holding a pistol, and it was aimed directly at him.

"Mister Robertson... ye think ye can make a fool of us eh? Sabotagin' our freighters t' prevent a shipments of cardamine from reachin' 'Hattan, isn't the smartest thing ye can do." The man with the pistol stated, an annoyed grin crossing his lips.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He lied, raising both of his hands up as a sign that he surrendered. "Come on, Mac, you know as well as I do that I don't care about what your business does, I only care about doing my job and getting paid."

"Yeh? I'm the Queen of Bretonia." Mac retorted and if it wasn't for the pistol whip that soon followed after that statement, Austin would've grinned.

Instead, blackness filled his vision.

With a groan, he slowly opened his eyes and the faint glow of yellow light filled his vision. It didn't take him long to notice the throbbing headache. He propped himself up with his left hand, and brought his right up to his temple where the pistol had hit him. Almost immediately he knew he was bleeding by the matted hair and the still wet gash that he shortly found.

"At least I'm not handcuffed..." Where the first muttered words to come out of his mouth as his vision finally cleared. The room was dark, any light that was coming in, though, made it through heavily tinted and blocked windows, but it was enough so that he could at least make out his surroundings. Nearby he could see various of objects scattered around, as well as a figure clearly sitting in a chair in front of one of the windows.

There was no doubt in Austin's mind that it was in fact, Mac.

"So... I see yer finally awake. Good, now that we're in the privacy of this storage room, we'll be able t' figure out how... and why ye sabotaged my freighters."

Austin let out a light sigh, feeling his heart drop some as his vision fixated on the outlined figure. "You know, Mac, I told you... I didn't sabotage your freighters. C'mon, I've been here for three months, and out of two of those months you came directly to me looking for someone to trust and help fix up your ships. I did so without questioning the legality of your business. As long as I got paid, I kept my mouth shut." He stated, rather defensively, even though he - himself - knew it was all a lie. "From the very start you knew I wanted to stay uninvolved in criminal politics."

"Then explain t' me how two squadrons of Liberty Navy fighters found my recent shipment and disabled all the freighters involved in the operation and captured a quarter of my men?"
"Luck? I don't know. The Navy's good at what they do."
"Luck ain't got nothin' t' do with this. Jakobson told me ye were the one who sabotaged our ships black box. Or uploaded a trackin' device or somethin' on 'em."

Through the darkness, Austin smiled lightly.

His motivation for doing what he did was merely for justice. After a couple of weeks of working on a few of the freighters that Mac had brought in, he had over heard that they (Mac's crew) had scored a large pay-off from another small smuggling ring. A bunch of human slaves.

With the information freshly in his head, Austin decided to do some investigation into the rumors and... of course, found the rumors to be true. He had taken a couple of still images of the slave pens and sent them out to local authorities in Quebec with a detailed description of the freighters, and the expected route that they were planning on taking.

Apparently the raid went off without a hitch. The former slaves were hopefully safe and heading back to the planets that they were captured on, or at least being taking into protective custody for their sakes.

Of course... Austin assumed that Mac didn't know that it was actually him that gave away information. If he did, Austin suspected that the gang leader would've killed him already.

He wasn't exactly surprised that this had happened either, and secretly hoped that he wouldn't have to be the one to bring down an entire smuggling gang operation. Though that hope started to become bleak with each passing moment.

"Turn the light on." Mac suddenly spoke up, and on demand, the lights flickered on.

The sudden light caused Austin to briefly close his eyes, then slowly open them to allow them to adjust to the change. Now the room he was in became more clear, and there were clearly more people than just Mac.

Four in total. All armed with various styles of clubs, and none of them seemed particularly happy.

"We did some diggin' around of our own. Ye know, we do happen to have some friends in the Lane Hackers. It turns out, that you, Gerald Robertson never actually existed up until a couple months ago. So... who exactly are ye? Oh, and don't worry about lying... we'll find out in a couple of minutes, as we've ran your face through some various recognition software."

"Honestly, I have no idea what you guys are talking about. Your hacker friends are probably framing you. I exist and I've existed for thirty-two years. I just never been to this part of Sirius until the war in Leeds started turning south." Austin muttered, slowly getting up to his feet. His fighting instincts slowly beginning to kick in as he started to position himself in a defensive stance, though suddenly caught off guard as something that felt like a chair leg slammed into the back of his knee, causing him to collapse down to the ground again.

Five... it seemed.

It seemed like he always had a knack for getting out of situations that were less than dire. His best friend coming to the rescue when he was held prisoner on Fuchu during his early days of being in the Armed Forces. A prisoner exchange later on when he was once more captured by the Kusari. The list went on...

Sadly, he was out of practice, and doubted he could actually take on all five of these people without some kind of advantage, an advantage that didn't come to him right off the bat. If he screwed up, he would be left here to die with his body broken.

He knew nothing he could say would convince the gang leader otherwise. Even though Mac remained silent.

In defiance, Austin lifted his chin and forced a crooked smile. "You say you know who I am. Which means you know everything that has happened to me. I highly doubt I'm someone you want to deal with... I've served in two great wars. I have sent men and women to their deaths. I've seen horrors that you could never imagine. I made deals with the devils that haunt the darkness. You want to know who I am? You'll mutter it with your dying breath."

"Hahaha! This imbecile thinks he can scare me. C'mon laddie, ye know yer not coming out of this alive."

Austin slowly shook his head, using the motion to see how close the man behind him was standing, speaking up once more. "Scare? No... that's not what I plan on doing." He forced another smile, dropping his gaze to the floor as he placed his hands firmly against it. The man behind him seemed to tense briefly, tilting his head as he observed Austin's action, though was completely caught off guard the moment Austin drew back his leg.

Slamming the drawn back boot into the man's knee. A shriek of startled confusion and pain was emitted from the man behind him, who immediately began to withdraw from the captive, though lost his footing and collapsed, clutching his knee.

Using this moment, Austin proceeded to get to his feet, putting pressure on the knee that was struck from behind caused him to lose his footing briefly, though gritting his teeth, he willed himself to stand, making sure not to apply too much pressure to his knee. His eyes stared down the four angry and armed thugs.

"Kill him." Mac muttered, having raised his hand and waved it annoyingly towards Austin.

The four thugs rushed forwards.

Having brought his arms up in a defensive posture for a brief moment, the sudden surge of the four armed thugs was enough for Austin to throw any defense out the window. Instead, he threw his body to the right and bolted in the direction of the exit.

Although, the speed at which he was running, was nothing more than a slow jog, having to compensate the fact that his leg was gimped from the attack earlier. He would have to ignore it, seeing as that was the better alternative than what laid a few meters behind him.

Ahead, he spotted a couple of stacked boxes and with a split second decision pushed passed them, grabbing on to one, he threw his legs forwards, allowing himself to pull the stacked crates down, creating a would be barrier that would hopefully slow his pursuers down.

Clambering to his feet, he didn't bother looking over his shoulder, using the spare time he had as his advantage to push further down the corridor. Passing another stack of crates that he ushered into position a position that would only allow one of the thus to pass through... unless they took time to push it out of the way.

He then darted down a separate corridor.

Freeport Fourteen was a large enough station that he could disappear on. Though he never had the intention of disappearing on the station. He had every intention of disappearing off the station. With a destination in mind, he began making his way - a bit slower now - towards the hangars. Checking over his shoulder every-so-often to ensure he wasn't being followed, and at the moment it seemed that he had lost his pursuers. Though... any smart thug would've found a faster route towards the hangar bay, and be waiting for him there. He hoped... actually, he prayed that wouldn't be the case.

His jog slowed to a limp as he neared the hangars.

As he rounded the corner, Austin froze. In the distance he could see a few members of Mac's thugs trying to blend in with the crowds of everyday citizens going about their typical lives. Though what made him cringe was when one of the thugs reached up to his ear and seemed to nod.

Austin didn't doubt that Mac was already informing most of this men to be on the look out for anyone that matched Gerald's... erm Austin's description. It also didn't surprise him that he might have to fight his way through the hangar to get to his ship. Which he could see in the distance, the old bird, his girl... A Templar class fighter.

He swallowed a deep intake of air and slowly made his way into the larger of the two crowds passing through. Unarmed and still recovering from the injury he suffered moments earlier, Austin's only defense at this moment would be stealth. Something he wasn't exactly adapted at using himself.

Acting as nonchalantly as possible, and covering his limp the best he could he proceeded towards his ship. It was only a matter of avoiding the thugs and getting out of the system. Getting out of the system... easiest thing he could do at the moment.

He sucked in another deep breath of air as he heard someone shout, the exact words unknown as he picked up his speed, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to overcome the pain shooting through his knee. He never bothered to look over his shoulder until he was a few meters away from his Templar. A group of armed men had given pursuit. Briefly he saw someone kneel and take aim with what appeared to be a rifle. Screams filled the hangars as a shot rang out. With his attention back towards his ship he could see the flash of metal hitting metal as the bullet slammed into the ship.

He gave a silent curse as he reached the ladder. Another shot rang out, pinging off the hull just left of his hand he used to haul himself up onto the ladder. Within moments... he was securely strapped into his ships controls, hatch closed he proceeded out into the darkness of space.