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[ The video comes on and it's mostly his bright yellow motorcycle helmet, the garish smiling face and GOOD LUCK printed over the visor. ]

--fuckin' hell.

[ He's off balance, but he catches himself and flips up the visor to give a toothy grin. ]

Lookin' to get my hands on some paint or dye or fabric. Bright colors.

[ He looks thoughtful for a moment. ]

Or music. Somethin' loud and fast. Gotta be somethin' worth looking at or listening to on this ship.

Name's Kobra Kid, by the way. Anyone heard of me? Kind of a big deal where I'm from.

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[Fatima can't help it. The mention of bright colors is too much to pass up.

As is the wide, open opportunity for a joke that'll make this whole thing feel...Less Real.]

When you say "big deal," are we talking girls throwing panties during your power ballads or...thirteen bodies found in various states of undress in the basement of the suspect's home?

[ Oh. That gives Kobra pause. He actually kind of has to think about how he's going to answer that question. ]

Uhhh... kinda both, actually.

[ The Killjoys might as well be rockstars for how their names are known. They just make a different sort of music. He's definitely got his share of panties and his share of bodies, though. ]

But I ain't undressin' any bodies. That's fuckin' sick. Just defendin' myself and my friends.

[If there is one thing about the multiverse that Fatima will never get used to, it's how honest people are. Not at all like home, where you have to play all your cards close to the chest.

It's...an adjustment. And even after nearly two years of it, she's still testing those waters.

And figuring out how to react to things.]

Good to know you have a line.

[ Being a very wanted criminal has the added benefit of giving no fucks, or it would have if he'd bothered to give a fuck in the first place. ]

Everyone has a line. Not like I'm some cold-blooded killer. Fightin' the good fight here. Freedom an' shit.

[This is a man who would get along very well with some Cainites Fatima knows.

Mostly the Anarchs in the Order.]

Okay, I'll bite. Freedom against who?

Evil assholes who are brainwashin' everyone. Drugging 'em into submission and taking away everything that makes life worth livin'. Ain't no art or color or joy for anyone livin' like that.

[ It makes Kobra sick to think about it. Those people are so broken, they don't even know how to be miserable anymore. ]

Okay, I'm with you so far. Evil assholes suck.

[She'll chastise herself later for sounding about as intelligent as Dean...]

Some proper nouns could help though.

What evil assholes are you talking about?

Better Living Industries.

[ The name is spit out like he's talking about Hitler. ]

Mmm, can't say I'm familiar with that particular Big Bad.

[She bites on the inside of her cheek for a moment.]

Do they go by another name? Something like COMPASS, maybe?

Never heard of COMPASS. You'd know if you'd heard of BLI. They control everything they think's worth controlling.

Had to ask.

[She's paranoid. Sue her.]

And how about your name?

What about it? Either you heard of me or you haven't.

I haven't.

Sorry.

[Not that she's going to lose sleep over that.]

My name's Fatima Merali. You haven't heard of me.

Nothin' to be sorry for. Just means you're not from where I'm from.

[ Which could be good or bad. He's not really in the business of caring if it won't affect his life back in the Zones. ]

Well, no. But this isn't exactly my first rodeo in inter-dimensional kidnapping either.

[A pause. Fatima shakes her head slightly.]

She said without any irony.

Wait, seriously? 'Cause I've been shot and kidnapped and drugged, but this whole space thing is pretty fuckin' new.

I really, really wish I were kidding.

I just did a year and a half hard time as prisoner of this organization called COMPASS.

...where I was kidnapped and drugged and...nearly shot by an incompetent boozer.

Was that also in space?

Um...not regularly. But there was this one time we were subjected to a stress test on a space station.

It...didn't go well.

Wonder if anyone else here's been through shit like that.

[She has to bite the inside of her cheek for a moment. To be certain, there's no one from Zelien here. She's double and triple checked.

No. She left them behind.

...to die.]

I don't know. The multiverse is...infinite.

What, like a fuckin' comic book? You really buy that?

You meet four versions of the same guy, you tend to become a believer. Pretty quickly.

Whoa. You think there's another me out there? You think he'd be up for a good time?

Probably. But your odds of meeting him are...

Actually, I dunno what they are.

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