The old Barge seemed... grander, than when he had last seen it. The damaged starfighter could barely maintain itself in the vacuum of space. The worn out and smelly flight suit crumpled the still perfectly groomed pinstripe suit and tie hidden beneath it. An unusual bustle of activity around the large vessel seemed to die down as the approaching starfighter hailed Slum City.
The operator couldn't believe what he was hearing. A large number of fighters flocked around the damaged Sabre as it landed in one of the new hangar bays. A loud hiss was let out as the cockpit opened, the man inside pulling a briefcase with him as he got out of the fighter, just as one of the wings tore off.
Unusual faces did he saw, all looking at him in awe. It rhymed, he realised, and he chuckled.
"YOU DAMN IDIOT!" - came a loud yell, followed by a particularly well dealt haymaker from his left. Only after a few seconds of blacking out did he recognise his brother, thinner than usual, hair matted and dissaranged. He sighed as he saw his sibling in such a light - "Thanks to you, Pete's gone mad, and he's called himself King, and now PEOPLE ARE MAD AT US, because YOU WEREN'T HERE"
As a responde, the man gave his brother a container of pills. His brother recognised them, taking three, almost immediately calming down, allowing the man to walk over to the bridge. As he passed the bar, he saw the usual patrons, Smudge already drunk.
He ignored them all and went straight for the bridge. There, slouched on his chair and wearing a brightly coloured tinfoil crown, was Pete, looking right at him.
"I'm back, Uncle" - said Jonathan.
Pete smiled.
<span style="color:#000000">The awful plight of he who cannot draw to save his own life.</span>