Perhaps it was unrealistic for either of them to expect that their unique connection could ever be severed, for when the need arises, Aria calls out to him from the backwater world on which she intended to hide.
Without hesitation Jason drops everything and recklessly answers…with catastrophic results.
Despite the severe damage to his ship, Jason stubbornly stretches the talents of his surviving crew, only to painfully uncover an unimaginable threat to galactic freedom.
Walking the streets, the dwellers ignore the night and move about as if it were day. Honking horns, sirens, and low flying aircraft create a din that only seasoned dwellers have learned to ignore. Walking among them, a lone figure, dressed in a long black leather jacket and black felt fedora, is clearly an outsider, but the dwellers are as indifferent to his presence as they are to each other. He is tall and thick. His heavy dress shirt, black jeans, and leather-hiking boots are as worn as his grim face. His dark eyes are filled with hurt and pain. He walks with even purposeful strides and stares ahead toward his objective ignoring those around him.
Fearlessly, the stranger crosses a street in front of moving traffic, ignoring the screeching tires, honks and angry expletives from annoyed drivers. On the other side of the street, the stranger pushes past a young couple admiring the breathtaking view of two silver moons hanging full in the sky.
“Watch yourself!” the male half of the couple warns angrily. His girlfriend, her face filled with disgust, grumbles while looking back at the hulking rude stranger as he walks away.
At first subtle, but growing more distinct, a thumping vibration rises under the stranger's feet.
As he nears his objective the energy changes around the stranger. The dwellers have changed in appearance as well. He finds himself walking among younger, well-dressed people. Scantily clad young women in revealing leather outfits are being studied by young men in tight expensive fabrics, their eyes filled with lust. They are congregating at the entrance to a three-story building that is covered by bright multi-colored neon. Blazing searchlights on the flat roof are sending bright beams into the sky. “Jack's Place” screams its existence to the world with insanely large, glowing, red stylized letters running parallel to the roof. A set of heavy black doors, twice the standard size, muffle bass heavy electronic dance music from within.
Two bald muscular men, dressed in black tight muscle shirts and black slacks, stand on either side of the doors with their thick arms crossed; they could be twins, as they look so alike. A velvet cable, suspended by two metal posts, keeps patrons from getting past and up the steps. A line of young people stretch from the front of the cable down the street and around the corner.
The stranger approaches, walks around the cable and starts up the stairs.
“Going somewhere, Grandpa?” the bouncer on the left asks with cheerful amusement. It is strange how such a muscular looking man can have such a high-pitched feminine voice.
The stranger says nothing. As he looks past the two men, his grim pockmarked face is emotionless, the color of his pupils briefly flash crimson red. The two bouncers suddenly fall to their knees and the stranger steps forward. With wide terrified eyes the bouncers hold their hands over their ears, emitting horrible screams of pain as blood trickles between their fingers.
A girl, waiting in line, releases a shrill cry of fear. The rest of the crowd looks on with curious fascination.
The stranger enters a dimly lit foyer.
A thin young woman with long black hair steps out of the shadows, proudly displaying her pale smooth flesh. To say she is dressed would be an exaggeration. Her top is little more than triangular patches of blue fabric that barely covering her nipples and is held in place by thin strings. Her skirt could easily be mistaken for a belt; her thick mascara hid more of her than did her skimpy outfit. The stranger glances at the woman and scowls at her with revulsion.
“Are you sure you want to be here old man?” the girl asks with a sarcastic smirk.
“Whore,” the stranger rasps slowly, his voice gurgling with contempt.
“Fifty ren, asshole!” the girl spits viciously.
The stranger makes a casual shooing motion with his hand. His eyes flash crimson. The girl flies backward and crashes violently into a wall. She releasing a sharp gasp as the air is forced from her lungs. She crumples to the black floor coughing and wheezing.
The stranger walks forward. A set of double doors gives him access to a dark surreal realm soaked in electronic music, perfume and sweat. The beat of the music pulses directly into his heart and rises from a flashing multi-colored floor that is covered by a sea of gyrating dancers. Above the floor, spotlights flash into the crowd following the beat of the music. Green and red lasers crisscross above the dancers heads and fog machines eject bursts of mist onto the crowd.