Colonel Daren Vos

The air in Market Sector 9 was thick with the aroma of sizzling street meats, ionized metal, and the pungent tang of alien spices. Colorful vendor stalls crowded the corridor, their neon signage flickering above crates of glittering minerals, synth-fabrics, and off-world delicacies. Voices of dozens of species mingled into a chaotic hum, punctuated by the occasional bark of automated transaction drones and the hiss of steam vents beneath the grated floor.

Colonel Daren Vos walked through the crowd like a blade through silk.

His boots struck the deck with a solid clang, every step measured, unwavering. Civilians parted instinctively at his approach, the polished black of his Othaemian Guard uniform catching the overhead lights, the silver crest on his shoulder gleaming like a warning flare. His gaze swept the crowd with mechanical precision. Then he saw it.

There, a figure leaning against a produce stall, feigning nonchalance. Their hand darted out, snatched a handful of iridescent Tharnexian berries, and turned to melt into the crowd.

Daren's voice rang out, a thunderclap in the bustle. “You. Stop!”

The crowd froze. The thief paused, just one heartbeat too long, then bolted. Big mistake.

Daren surged forward like a war machine. His heavy coat billowed behind him, and within seconds, he was on the thief. A single outstretched arm clotheslined the thief clean off their feet. The figure hit the deck with a harsh thud, breath knocked from their lungs, berries scattering like spilled stardust across the floor.

Daren loomed above them, a towering shadow framed by the harsh white glow of the overhead lights.

“You think this city runs on charity?” he growled, his voice rough as crushed gravel. “We are not a fringe colony. We are Othaemia. You steal here, you answer for it.”

He reached down, grabbing the thief by the collar and hauling them up with one hand. The scent of sweat and fear now overpowered the spices in the air. A nearby stall owner, a four-eyed Kelorian, murmured thanks but didn’t dare step closer.

“What’s your name?” Daren barked, his hand hovering by the cuffs on his belt.