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It had to stop.

There was nothing of more importance. The connection to Alan's mind had proven to be far more detrimental to Rorry than he had ever expected. He could feel every emotion, every idea. There was no end, no sleep, no peace of mind. With every growing hour the frustration and rage continued to escalate. With every moment that passed the very shreds of sanity left in his mind were slowly slipping away. With time no longer on his side, Rorry looked to the container that had for so long been but an afterthought in the back of his mind, a parting gift from his last tip into Gallia. It was labeled quite simply "Nox."

Rorry knew the effects the Brigands had claimed that Nox would provoke. Time would slow down, the desire to care about anything would be lost, suspended in a living dream for some time, and then... inevitable slumber. A sleep that bordered on comatose. And of course the after effects: Short-term Amnesia. The ability to forget. To be able to, if only for a while, relieve the burden on his shoulders...

...without further hesitation Rorry took a full dosage.

Life took a new form... There was no reason for worry... There was only the enjoyment, of the purest kind, in each and every single finite increment of time. Rorry was, for the first time, in this moment, at peace...

A beat, repeated once every thirty minutes. Hard to tell a pattern, but the pattern is there. The beat has repeated itself millions of times since the darkness fell. What it signifies is life. Slow life. Imperceptibly alive. Over time the beat repeats faster until it resembles a true heart beat. As the beat grows stronger, faster, the life it signifies grows to consciousness once more. In his small ship Syn wakes up.

"Engines offline, life support offline, weapons offline." Syn growled at the computer. Only running as it was because he'd hooked it up to his own internal power supply. Nothing worked. This ship was dead, as dead as the gods it had once served. As dead as Syn himself felt. He ensured the ships passive sensors had enough power to scan nearby space and settled back to enter a hibernation state again. Setting his internal chronometer to wake him up in two million heartbeats, or when a nearby vessel was noticed.

Barely a hundred thousand heartbeats later Syn was sharply woken up. "Vessel in communication range. Sending SoS beacon." The ship that had approached his Shadow seemed to be a colelction of parts, cranes and other appendages dotted its hull. A mismatch of hull panels declared this vessel to be of Junker origin evidently scouring the dark parts of space to find junk such as this Shadow. Syn knew he could not allow the Shadow to fall into the hands of anyone other than himself, but he also knew that losing it would be like cutting off his own arm. That left Syn one and only one choice. He needed that ship.

"you're damn lucky we found you fella." The Junker speaking to him looked every inch the down on his luck salvage operator he was claiming to be.

"Yes."

"What's it worth for me to haul you back to civilisation?"

Syn grinned his metallic smile. "You may have this wreck. It should prove profitable for a man such as yourself."

The Junker smiled as well and then cut off the communication. Syn settled back as the Salvager began the process of stowing the Shadow into its cargo bay.

Rorry's eyes opened only slightly, he found himself in a luxurious bed. The room, designed for the wealthy and spoiled, held a view to Planet Hiran unlike any other.

"I know this room..." Rorry muttered to himself as memories almost forgotten sunk in.

The door to the room slid open to reveal a young woman smiling, her eye's deep blue.

"John, you're still in bed?" she said as she leapt onto the mattress in a playful manner, looking down at Renegade Pirate.

Rorry collected his thoughts as he realized this wasn't the present, but a memory. Suddenly he was looking down upon the happy couple, the joy they held in each other evident in every way. The young man he saw was in no way the man he was today...

...the scene changed. The light had faded into obscurity. A ceremony was taking place. Many were in attendance. Thousands of voices echoed into the distance with shouts of devotion. "Rorry! Rorry! Rorry! Rorry!"

The woman was now old, looking down not at her lover, but instead, a coffin. Her eye's no longer held their brightness. Time had taken it's tole. Her life spent. Wasted on the false hopes of that young man in the room to return.

He knew the story, this fate. He had chosen it long ago.

"Such is the loss... in the pursuit of power." The words echoed in Rorry's mind. His gaze turned toward his feet, water was rising quickly. He looked up just in time to meet a crashing wave head on. It landed like a brick wall...

---

"Rorry... Rorry! Comon boss sit up.... that's it. Good god ya' had me scared there Rorry."

Rorry looked up to a familiar face, Ron, a Renegade whom he had trusted his life to on more than one occasion.

"Where... what happened?

"You were out for almost two days Boss! You're own damn ship jettisoned you out and took off!" Ron talked as he checked on the monotor hovering behind Rorry.

Rorry sat up, still drowsy from the Nox. "Where are we exactly Ron?"

"Yangi Depot boss, I brought ya here as fast as I could. No one knows yer here for now. But it looks like we'll be lying low for a few days. Reavers and a rag tag group of mercs hit the mooring points just minutes after I got ya here. They're squattin' for a while so the word goes, some job with the GMG going down. And well, with that huge price on your head and the condition you're in right now and no damn good get away ship, I think it's best we keep ourselves scarce..."

It had been a year since that first meeting with Syn, but Rorry could still remember the abrupt collision with the man during his recovery on Yangi, a base no longer present with-in Sigma 13. It was upon the mess deck that Syn first heard Rorry speaking in hushed tones...

"Don't you see Ron?" the Red King gritted his teeth his eye's burning with anger. "It's not enough to simply be content with life as we live it! Look what we have accomplished?! We used to dream of taking a treasure so great that all those who took it could split and live a life a luxury for the rest of our lives. We've done it Ron, we've done it twice over!"

"Then we go on and live our lives with our riches, yes?" Ron suggested.

"Not I... It isn't enough." Rorry looked downward. "I have made a name for myself, but only as a pirate. My own mind haunts me Ron, a nightmare that I cannot run from. Yet death frightens me even more so, with death I lose everything I have worked to gain. A name soon forgotten in the endless line of time..." he paused for a moment, pondering if he should confide with his associate the darkness looming within him... "I enjoy it Ron..."

"Enjoy what?" Ron asked.

"Killing" the pirates eye's turned strangely dark red, suddenly bloodshot. "I've pushed myself to the limit attempting other methods of clearing my head. Nox helps but I cannot put myself in this situation again and again, handicapped completely for a few moments of peace." he laughed turning his head to the side. "I am sick Ron, and blood is the antidote... How is your history?"

"History Rorry? Why do you ask?"

"Historians of Earth speak of the first tales of the undead... Men who were so evil, that even the darkest corners of the afterlife could not hold their souls. Beings so corrupt, that they are forced to live on, more powerful than the common man. Immortals Ron... From those few men spawned tales of superior humans, vampires, demons, and soulless wanderers living in the darkness of the earth." Rorry leaned back, watching Ron stare blankly back at him, unsure in what his reaction should be.

"Think of the power one could attain by truly surpassing death my friend! The universe will be for the taking for those willing to take the necessary measures...

My mind often wanders into the question of how far one must go to truly corrupt one's soul... No ordinary killer is capable of true corruption. If this were so we would see immortals at every turn... No, one must push him self so far, so deep into darkness that he will never regret even for a moment his actions, even when faced with death he must be joyful with his choices. A man beyond repair." Rorry stopped, looking to Ron who was slowing inching his way back from the table.

Ron stood up. "I'm sorry boss, but this isn't like you... Blasting some bastards for not paying up, sure, that's part of the business. But what you're talking about is unending mass genocide! How are we to gain form that?!"

"Immortality has no price! Immortality and peace of mind Ron! Don't you see? We limit our potential by fear of becoming corrupt beyond repair. But only in corruption can we truly be limitless!"

Rorry's last words fell only on Syn's keen ears as Ron got up and left mid speech, heading straight to the docking bay to leave who he had just previously held so much regard for. Ron had heard enough. Rorry was losing it...

...or was he? Syn looked to the man with bloodshot eye's with a thought forming with-in. Could this "Rorry" be of some use? Can a man on a path of utter evil really survive such dire exploits for any prolonged time? Syn stood up...

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