"He's late."

Outis of Siarnaq looked up from his personal terminal, closing its neon green surface, letting it wink out in the artificial twilight of Luna's fantastic underground city.

He and some of the Hyperlight Corporation's assembly had remained with the Acidalium Class at the Lunar docks, partly to gaggle at the sheer awesomeness of the scenery, and partly to fulfill a work order that had been placed with them prior - when their first communications had been opened with the Union. A special request, as it were, from a Mister Schwarzer Ritter, apparently a Union Ace.

Outis blinked, pale blue eyes and fair skin clear under his wavy, almost white blonde hair, his expression... carefully neutral, as per usual. His black suit and tie were company standard, but he found himself more uncomfortable in it than usual in these ghostly surroundings.

"We should contact the garrison." Said one of his white-suited bodyguards, producing his communicator as he did - only to stop as Outis placed a firm hand over it's surface.

"That's not necessary." He said. "I'll go out and take a look for him."

In truth, he had been searching for an excuse to get out from under Fleur's thumb, and to see more of the Lunar landscape for himself. Much as he cared for her... He cared little for being what amounted to a kept man, sedated into near complacency as he was. The drugs currently coursing through his system kept him submerged in a deep, dark quiet... something he both welcomed, and reviled, embracing the peace they brought him, but aware that a part of him was fighting it every step of the way.

Still. It was a necessary sacrifice to ensure his own happiness...

Or so he kept telling himself. The phantom streets of Luna stretched out before Hyperlight's de-facto number two as his appropriated car - a squat, rectangular, unknown Sect model the Union had appropriated - accelerated, its electric motor purring at his featherlight touch. An entire city, maintained for over two decades, for a populace that all were in their graves below. A pair of cleaning droids, skimmed past his vehicle, sweeping up the small amounts of dust that had accrued across the sidewalks. Above, the buildings that were damaged in the battle between the Alchemist and the 00 Raiser had been covered up with tarp, and work-automatons labored within, day and night, repairing the structures at VEDA's direction, little more than flickering sparks of light in the darkness.

It had been a long time since he had been back, he thought.

All manner of unpleasant memories attempted to make themselves known as he drove, but all died in the pit of his stomach, terminating in little more than sense of vague, anxious unease. He knew that it was on purpose, that Fleur had made quite certain that he was unable to recall specifically what had occurred during his time here... But the curiosity to know, to understand, still burned defiant somewhere within him.

At length, he came upon another vehicle, and slowed, blinking in the artificial dusk.

The sign hanging over the door said, in faded neon print, "Hangover Blues"... and the sound of music could be faintly heard coming from its interior. Having found little else during his search - and at the very least, in the mood for a drink - he stepped out of the car, and pushed open the classical looking door to step inside a piece of history...

Among the murmurs, chatter and music playing in the background, Schwarzer Ritter laughed to himself as he took a swig from the small bar glass in his hand. The ice cubes clanked against the interior as he dropped it back down on the dingy wooden table. He payed no attention to the looks from the patrons the table over who were wondering what he found so amusing. It's not like they would appreciate the humour in the same way he found it.

Here he was, on the surface of the Moon, the place he had wanted to escape from for so many years, escaping from the surface of the Earth, and all the memories that haunted him from it now. The attack that took Madalen's life was too fresh on his mind. Again and again when he closed his eyes, all he could see was her being swallowed by the abyss. The only thing that seemed to let him forget about the entire ordeal was alcohol, just as many had used to cope before him. All he could do was drink, and keep himself busy working in the vacuum the Chancellor's death had caused in the Union to try and null the pain.

Ritter had contacted the corporation known as Hyperlight after hearing about their new Mobile Suit reactor technology, meeting them at the newly liberated Luna. If he was going to enact any sort of revenge in Madalen's name, he was going to utilize anything he could find at his disposal, and what better than these rumoured new machines, capable of energy output he only thought the Turn A was capable of. It was supposed to be set up by one of the Union's teams, but in his new found depression, and the mind-numbing bender he was subjecting himself to, Ritter hadn't paid much attention to the exact dates and times. He took another swig of his drink before motioning over to the server for a refill.

"Another whiskey. Make it a double this time." He said as he reached into the pockets of his military jacket and pulled out a slightly crushed package of cigarettes. Ritter pulled one out and pressed it between his lips as he began to fumble around his pockets to look for his lighter. As soon as he found it in an inside pocket, he gave it a light and took a quick drag, exhaling slowly and watching as the cloud of smoke drift up into the amber lights of the Hangover Blues. The server returned before too long with his refill as Ritter left the girl a handful of credits for payment.

"Thanks." Ritter said as the server walked back to the bar. He took another swig of the whiskey as a new patron walked through the doors, almost looking like they were out of their element being in a place like this.

Outis stiffened as he entered the bar, brow creasing, unaccustomed to the sudden rank stink of alcohol that rose up to meet him, as he attracted the sudden attention of some of the Union's more... colorful characters. He scanned room passively, making sure not to make eye contact with those who stared. His suit and tie were out of place among the uniforms, and he was suddenly, painfully aware of that fact. He nearly made to leave on the spot, only spotting the man he was searching for upon a second glance, hunched over a glass and cackling to himself.

There, he thought privately, he is. Schwarzer Ritter. The Black Knight. The Living Legend himself. The one whose name was so renown that even Blanchefleur had raised her eyebrows upon their receipt of his request, and ordered that only the best be delivered to the Union's paladin. Stories of his exploits were known not only on the Earth Sphere, but among the denizens of Hyperlight as well, many of whom were refugees fleeing persecution or war on the Outer Rim, and to whom fantastic tales of the heroes of Earth were a source of entertainment during long voyages.

But... What he saw, he thought, was not an ace... but a broken soul, and his heart briefly went out to him. Blinking in the dingy twilight, Outis made his way over to Ritter past the other patrons, who turned their own gazes back to their drinks.

"Mister Ritter, I presume?"

Were Ritter to turn, he would find a slightly sedate looking man in a dark suit regarding him with a polite smile as he approached, stopping a short distance from the table ledge. He couldn't have been more than thirty-five, but these days, with vanity being the Coordinator's craft and common denominator, who knew anymore?

Even without a Newtype's intuition, Ritter could tell that the representative from Hyperlight was out of their normal element. He definitely did look to be the type working for a corporation, and held a very professional air about him. At least they sent somebody who seemed to have some pull, Ritter mused as he tapped his cigarette on the ash tray and gave the man before him a quick up and down glance.

"Just Ritter is fine." He said in a welcoming manner through somewhat slurred words. Ritter extended his free left hand for a shake before motioning for the man to sit down in the empty chair across the table with a quick waving motion of his other. "And you are?"

Ritter wondered for a moment if maybe he was too drunk to actually be conducting business like this. Just what would some suit from the Outer Rim think seeing somebody with his level of notoriety sitting in a bar taking back booze and cigarettes. Did that kind of thing even matter when money was being presented?

"Outis of Siarnaq, Hyperlight Corporation."

The man reached out and shook Ritter's hand. His grip was firm, and his gaze steady... But there seemed to be a kind of emptiness to it, a lack of actual muscle behind the motion of the arm, an uncanny listlessness. He took the seat as gestured to by Ritter, pulling himself up. To a waitress, he gave a murmured drink order, dropping his voice, beyond what Ritter, in his current state, would have been able to decipher. As she left, he straightened and regarded the man himself, folding his arms on the table.

"We were expecting you earlier. I was... concerned."

He gave what he hoped was a sympathetic smile, yet seemed clearly intimidated being in the presence of one such as Ritter. Nevertheless, he pressed onward, asking earnestly:

"Is... everything alright?"

"Outis..." Ritter repeated the man's name as he took his handshake in an equally firm grip and gave him a hard shake. "Nice to meet you."

Ritter watched Outis through his drunken haze. Trying his best to piece together just what kind of man the Hyperlight Corporation had decided for him to meet. His train of thought was quickly interrupted by his new associate.

Ritter paused to collect his thoughts before answering Outis. His hand reached for the glass again as Ritter took a swig before setting it back down on the table. He stared at his reflection in the glass as it stared right back at him. How do you tell somebody you feel broken?

Taking another drag of his cigarette, Ritter stabbed it into the ashtray in a an explosion of sparks and ash. The butt crumpling under the pressure, just as he felt he was doing now.

"Sorry." He began as he took another moment to collect himself. "The loss of our beloved Chancellor has a lot of people grieving. Including myself."

Ritter took another swig of his drink, finishing it off as the memories of that day went through his mind once more. He eagerly went to change the subject.

"That's a major reason I'm meeting you here today. The Union is very interested in your new reactor technology, and my interest in particular is piqued."

Outis blinked slowly, noting Ritter's thousand-yard stare into his drink, his ashen features, the tones of his voice heavy and burdened. Whatever had shorn his spirit seemed still raw, and he opted instead to let the matter rest, sparing the man any further salt in the wound. Blanchefleur, for all her fussiness, wasn't above a little tabloid gossip, and the Union's masked Chancellor had been a popular subject - however, Outis wasn't the type to pry. For now, he simply afforded the older man the comfort of his own thoughts.

"Yes... It was all over the news." He said, with what seemed to be more than just simple corporate politeness.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

If he meant to opine further, he stopped himself as Ritter swiftly changed the topic, allowing himself to be carried along by the man's understandable desire to put his grief aside for the time being.

"Yes, of course." He responded, fishing in his pocket to produce the flat-screened personal communicator from before. "We were delighted to receive your request... Our engineering team appreciates a challenge."

After making a couple of taps against its surface, he placed it on the table between them. With a faint chime, it projected a hologram between the two of them - a plane of sorts, expanding out into a square about one and a half feet in diameter. On it, several figures rose, filing in one at a time as their models flickered into being.

Each had a similar stature - thick blocky shoulder pads and steep, angular shields at the knees, giving an impression of bulk. One by one, small red lights - monoeyes - lit up under domed heads. Each had shouldered menacing looking rifle, and stood at rapt attention, totaling in ten - but it was the figure at the front that stood out most. Its armor was jet black and riddled with ornate curves, its helmet terminating in a dark tower that easily indicated it as a command unit. No standard monoeye looked back at Ritter from under a single, high performance camera unit, but an almost Gundam-like fierce visage, crafted with what must have been incredible care. It steepled its hands over the butt of a menacing looking shotgun, its light-crafted barrel pointing down towards the table.

"I'm confident you'll be satisfied with the results." Said Outis, leaning back slightly as he did, indicating for Ritter to feel free to touch as he did,

"That one at the front in particular was crafted to your specifications... We like to call it the Kabakali."

Ritter wasted no time before grabbing the hologram's display and looking through it as Outis spoke about the machines Hyperlight had constructed for him. Each of the Mobile Suits held characteristics familiar with machines he had seen in the past, but at the same time were unlike anything he had seen before. He took a great interest once the Kabakali was displayed, looking at the highly unique design of it as he began to go through the specifications. They were definitely a fortunate company to house an engineering team capable of machines like this. Hopefully they would perform as well in the field as they supposedly did on paper.

Ritter nodded as he slowly passed back the holographic display, a smile slowly cracking in the corner of his mouth as he did so.

"Fantastic, simply fantastic." He began, the excitement of finally witnessing these machines that utilize Photon technology distracting him from everything that had transpired. "These all look like fine Mobile Suits. I'll have my people arrange to receive them as early as we can. If I'm as happy with the results as I think I will be, then the Union will contact your people about securing some kind of contract for more machines."

He took a moment to pause with another swig of his drink, before extending a hand outward for another firm shake. A contract was only final with a handshake.