<span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-style: italic">Leto</span></span><br/><br/>It was a peaceful evening on Pandora. The sunset was beautiful with the whole array of blues, purples, pinks, and oranges. The Bandits were all hidden away in their bases, being good to keep quiet, and out of the way as the Crimson Lance soldiers patrolled the areas. On top of a 40-or-so-foot tall, naturally created stone pillar, was a woman. She had ghost-pale skin that seemed as white as snow, and hair that was blacker than a moonless night, and at the end of the mid-back long hair were blood-red tips. A ragged and torn, dark grey hood concealed most of her face and head. And said hood was attached to a cloak, pinned in front of her neck by a silver ribbon. She stared at the falling sun with featureless eyes.<br/><br/>On her lap was an iron bow with a simple, elasticâ€”yet incredibly strongâ€”string connecting either side. Strapped to her back was a quiver full of arrows, but these arrows were unique; these arrows had heads made of advanced technology that would explode on contact, and, depending on the artifact implemented in the tips, would have a different effect (sonic, incendiary, corrosive, and even, simple explosiveness). She took a deep inhale of the warm, arid air, and then let it out in a slow breath, closing her eyes in the process. Opening them, she took one last look at the sunset before jumping down from the 4-story pillar.<br/><br/>She looked down at the ground growing larger and larger at she plunged down, but she had no fear in her eyes; if anything, it was moreover boredom. She spread her arms out wide, and landed on all fours; arms and legs spread out like a spider as she landed perfectly. She then stood up properly and dusted herself off. She blew a strand of her hair from her face, and then walked on, resting her bow on her shoulder. She didn't know where she was going, or how she was going to get there. She continued to walk in a straight line, almost as if she knew where she was to be headed off to, when in reality, she had no clue to a destination. Maybe Fyrestone; perhaps Skag Gully. She could head off to Crawmerax's Lair and it wouldn't matter! But she didn't care...<br/><br/>She found her way to a Catch-A-Ride Station and browsed through their selection before coming across a Racer and choosing it. A sort of, techie thin blue outline appeared beside her that was in the shape of the selected vehicle. It soon materialised beside her. She made a blinked slowly, and crawled in. It was cosy, and nice, and the controls were simple, so this would be easy enough. She had driven one of these before, but not enough to have mastered its controls. She was soon off and headed to another location, and she decided upon Fyrestone since it was the most basic of places and quite a few people lived there.<br/><br/>While driving quite a distance, almost a mile away, yet clear as day, she spotted a small dot off in the distance. She couldn't tell who or what it was, but they seemed to have been seen by another vehicle. Leto didn't care. Her People weren't big on compassion or care; other humans should learn to survive on their own, not be dependent on other sentients. Those who couldn't do as such were incompetent, and not worthy of life. She scoffed, and moved the blowing hair from her face, looking forward, seeing Fyrestone's gates appearing over the horizon.<br/><br/>She finally made it there after traveling another 20 or so minutes until she happened upon the small village. It was quaint and small and she could see people walking in and out of their homes and to various other huts that sold a menagerie of things. As she passed through the gates, no one said anything, no one even turned their heads to see the newcomer, because to them... there was no newcomer. To them, all they saw was nothing, for their minds were being fogged from being able to view her. It was a special ability of her people that the locals called â€œShadow Womenâ€ for men or male specimens were not ever seen. They were said to have the power to fog a person's mind from viewing upon a certain place, person or object. And, they can also, if necessary, fog one's memory causing anyone they choose to forget about specific times, events, and even specific people. This was humorous to Leto since they were unable to see her.<br/><br/>She finally made her way to a small bench and sat, crossing one leg over the other and watched the citizens go on their merryway beâ€”unbeknownst to themâ€”be observed from a small bench in the middle of town...<br/><br/>~~~~~<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;">Roland</span></span><br/><br/>Oh how wonderful of a day this Pandoran day was. The sun was bearing down on his skin like a furnace that used magma as a heat-source--even if the sun was actually most of the way gone beyond the horizon--and the wind, so strong, that it left his skin parched, and sweating like a monsoon. And on top of that, he was nearly out of ammo for nearly all of his weapons, but he had lost of his knife in the process of attempting to run away from a stupid gang of bandits. What fucking perfect day this was turning out to be!<br/><br/>Driving... driving... driving... still driving. Was this street of sand endless, or was he simply going in circles? He really didn't know, and quite frankly, he honestly he couldn't give less of a shit. He grunted in frustration to this ridiculous inferno. It was like living in a goddamned sauna. Why in the living hell he decided to live here, was completely beyond him at this point. Oh yeaaah! It was because he joined those accursed Crimson Lance paid extremely well until they started having him go out and kill innocents because of â€œpast duesâ€. Something that just didn't exactly rank very high in his 'Most Favourite Assignmentsâ€ list. He groaned yet again when he heard gunfire.... FUUUUUUUâ€”<br/><br/>Stepping on the gas, he activated the nitrous and rocketed at nearly three times the speed he was previously moving at. Then, just to make matters all the more complicated, there was a girl in his way and by the looks of it, she didn't seem in all that great of shape. Perfeeect... He came to a screeching hault, in fact fish-hooking so that he was now parallel to her.<br/><br/>â€œAnything I can help you with ma'am?â€ He asked, seeming a tad bit nervous as the sounds of the gunfire in the distance steadily grew more pronounce. She had better ask for a ride, get her ass in quickly or get the fuck away. He didn't want to be here when the Crimson Lance were...<br/><br/>~~~~~<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;">Mordecai</span></span><br/><br/>Splat! Was the noise that reverberated through the small canyon he was in as a young man with a full facemask made a perfect abdomen shot of one badass Spiderant. Sure, they weren't exactly good eatings but he could easily sell the forearms for quite a substantial amount of money (say, a good 450 dollars or so). And hunting animals for a living was just something he enjoyed ever so much. He turned his head and heard to the southwest, a loud screech, and then a pained squawk. Bloodwing made another glorious kill. Sometimes, that bird pissed him off so much due to his ability to be able to kill so much faster and more efficiently most of the time.<br/><br/>He then, saw, beyond the still-present harshness of the setting sun's glare, his faithful companion, Bloodwing, flapping over the canyon wall with a pair of nicely cut off Spiderant forearms. That was 900 dollars right there, and he barely broke a sweat (he broke one at all only because how hot it always was). He smiled, and put his arm out, bending it at the elbow. The bird dropped the two claws and then landed on Mordecai's forearm with a squawk. Only seconds later, the bird went from flashing brilliant blues and purples to his normal feather colour of reds, browns and jet black wings.<br/><br/>â€œNice kill, Blood!â€ He said praisingly, petting the bird's head, and scratching under its chin. He then out of a pouch attached the back of his belt, he pulled a small rodent corpse, using it as a treat to the avian. He then placed Bloodwing on top of his head and walked on, picking up the two forearms on his way out of the canyon. He was about to leave when he saw four Crimson Lance soldiers standing at the entrance, guns aimed.<br/><br/>â€œMordecai, you are a fugitive wanted by the Crimson Lance for poaching and the possession and illegal distribution of endangered species,â€ The middle one informed him. Mordecai rolled his eyes, and then walked passed them, Spiderant claws still in hand. â€œHalt!â€ The middle one now shouting. Mordecai heard guns being cocked. Mordecai sighed, and then walked back to them. â€œYou will come with us peacefully or else we will be forced to resort to violence.â€<br/><br/>Mordecai sighed, and then took another step forward before throwing the claws at the soldiers, knocking them all over, and then running off. He ran and ran until the sun had been swallowed by the horizon, and now inky darkness surrounded him except for the blue, glowing electricity from Bloodwing. And now, a person was visible over yonder... Great. More Crimson Lance.<br/><br/>â€œHey!â€ â€œGet back here!â€ and gunshots rang through the quiet night. Mordecai ran faster.