"Hair: Brown. Eyes: Hazel. Height: 5'10. Weight: 205. Other distinguishing characteristics: Two claw scar running from forehead to right ear. Right ear missing. Hair loss along scar. Ladies and Gentlemen, are there any that doubt that before us stands Kellin Finnel, Designation #642?"

Silence reigned the Colosseum-styled room, those above him either shaking their heads no or entirely indifferent to the man before them.

All but for one deep voice, seething as it interrupted the calm.

"Again, why do we give this man the courtesy of a public trial?!"

Around the upper reaches of the room, a collective sigh swept the stands. Screens that were once active and showing the many news networks that were invited to attend went blank as a circle with a red line drawn across it took the place of what was formerly their eye rolling and annoyed faces.

"[Station Commander], I thought we'd finished with this-" someone began, not getting any further.

"A complete mockery of our entire system. Insubordination of the highest degree, sabotage of an officially sanctioned gathering mission, blatant disregard of hierarchy and command structure, among many other... lesser charges, if you will, that in their totality would alone merit a death sentence away from prying eyes. And yet, all this contributed to the biggest embarrassment our entire Sector has seen in years! Hundreds dead! Public opinion or not, this man deserves to die in pain and seclusion, [Senators]! Not lauded as a respectable-"

"THAT is not up for debate, Commander Tresk. The issue, rather, is that the manner in which you propose-"

"Should he not suffer for his transgressions, [Senator] Barillo?! He is the sole cause of an entire Company's demise! I feel spacing the human garbage is even too soft a punishment, yet you won't even allow me that? Those were my men that died out there! Why we even give him the courtesy of allowing him to wear his suit is beyond-"

Kellin sighed, tuning out the loud posturing above him as his body sagged even harder against the Combat Suit he was currently prisoner inside of. Ludacris of Tresk to even imagine he could stand on his own, injured as he was after what he'd gone through. They'd removed all [Credits] he'd earned as well after finding him unconscious, giving him nothing to heal with once he woke.

Kellin's eyes roamed the final room he'd see in his lifetime. Truly, it felt like he was being executed in the public eye, even if it were to technically be done out of the public eye. Standing on a center platform spanning nearly twenty feet in diameter, a massive room with seats on all sides surrounding him. Himself even more of a central and obvious focus of attention than the podium of the five [Senators] he sat before and the taller, more majestic one set behind him holding the [Station Commander].

"Enough, Commander Tresk," a new voice rang out, silencing the man with a hand held up. "Kellin Finnel is still an [Expedition Captain], criminal or not. We will not have his position seen to the public as anything less than powerful and respected. It would undermine our government moreso than not alleviating your anger will."

Kellin finally looked up, making brief eye contact with his oldest mentor and newest member of the Senate, Robert Griffin. Despite even his own mind wishing he were done with hope, there was still the tiniest part of him that wanted to see the man find a way to right the situation Kellin had found himself in. Take his side, even if it would only mean he was killed in a more dignified manner.

That last sliver of hope died when the older man turned his cold eyes away again, addressing [Station Commander] Tresk again as the screens at the top of the Colosseum's walls all flashed to life again.

"Kellin Finnel; your punishment for the listed crimes will be as follows: You are to be exiled. Banished to a [Hole], danger rating ten, conjured by our request of the Universe. A final kindness given to a man, my pupil and greatest disgrace, who served our Sector and people well until he was lost to madness. Mr. Finnel shall die as he lived: Violently, and away from the eyes of the public." The [Senator] paused then, eyes landing on the visor of Kellin's suit. "May you use that knife on yourself and not whatever poor souls you may come across, Captain Finnel."

Kellin's face fell slightly at the hate that seemed to seep through his old friend's every word. An act, he hoped, but he'd never known his old instructor to be that convincing.

Not that any would see his distress, the suit's visor still up and masking his expressions.

"Thanks for always taking care of me, Gyps," he whispered into it, receiving no response.

They'd already taken her AI, he knew. This was a husk. A simple dog to the Empire. One that would ensure he died in this casket of metal the moment he went through the portal, if the portal itself didn't kill him. Everyone knew what being dropped in the [Hole] meant, and it wasn't a last mercy given to any.

It was simply death. None ever returned, nor did their names come up when searching while utilizing the [System]. It was death.

"Then, shall we not give him a chance to weigh in at least?!" Tresk broke in again, motioning down as Kellin's Marine suit finally lifted its visor, showcasing his rugged, damaged features to the room of formally dressed men and women. "Kellin Finnel, your crimes are as numerous as they are varied. Do you not wish to atone for them in some way by suffering as you know you should?"

Kellin's combat suit abruptly jerked around, forcing him to turn and look up at the large, imposing figure that had been behind him as he winced in pain from the movement. There, the bane of his existence stood, demanding so much out of him throughout the years, the tasks and suicidal nature of his orders ironically being what gave Kellin his rise to fame.

Draros Tresk. His father.

A large man; disciplined and honed. Intelligent, cunning, and ruthless, the figure before him he'd only recently found out was the reason he was alive. Yesterday, in fact, when his mentor informed him of the true reason he was being removed. So many attempts, so many situations beyond the Threat Level he'd been equipped to handle... Finally, Tresk had driven Kellin into a corner he wasn't able to kill or lead his way out of. Death out of sight was apparently not enough for Tresk's bastard son either, wanting to watch the life disappear from his eyes in person.

Kellin was glad Griffin had at least managed to spare him that final disgusting image.

In a clip held off the end of that single podium he was being forced to look upon was Gypsy, his AI. Almost taunting in the manner his lifelong partner was displayed, out of reach despite how close she was. She had been his left hand throughout most of his military career, customized beyond recognition to her original form and named by his daughter and wife. A member of the family, loved by them as much as by himself.

He wondered how they'd fair without her to cook Anni her toast every morning.

Seeing him not respond in the slightest, Tresk continued.

"A [Hole], even one meant for the fringe worlds, is too light a punishment for you. I would even allow you to conjure your own or pick a favorite, if it meant you suffered more. How about it?"

Kellin's face remained impassive as he'd stared back at the figure he'd loathed for years.

"I couldn't think of a worse punishment than having to see your face so soon before my demise, father. It will quite literally be the most excruciating-" is as far as he got before the visor snapped back shut, cutting his voice off from the room that erupted into a clamor of noise.

The brief shocked and horrified look on the always-in-control Tresk's face was almost worth every moment of pain he'd be going through in the future. The way the man had glanced toward his old mentor subtly confirmed to Kellin it was true as well, that the man was his father. The information known only to an elite few, the confirmation only making him feel sicker than he believed it would.

"Now, now, calm down everyone," [Senator] Barillo said, raising his hands to interrupt the clamor. "Let us end this farce."

To Kellin's surprise, the visor came up once more and he found Tresk staring into his eyes.

"Yes. It seems we might as well. I was a fool to think you might have some sense of pride in your veins. I'd ask you to do it for the pitiful family you leave behind, but based on the multiple abusive reports submitted by your wife, I'd say you don't care to do it for them, either."

It was Tresk's turn to grin at the expression on Kellin's own face as he realized Yesa's intentions to cut ties, digging his hole even deeper with allegations that, while he and Gypsy knew to be false, neither would be around to refute. It was the correct decision, one he figured she'd make for her own sake, benefitting Anni as well, but still one that stung. They'd never been that close except when they'd first been arranged, but he'd hoped she would at least find another way and refrain from tarnishing the lingering respect anyone might hold for him.

It wasn't to be the case, however. With her final allegations being read aloud, everyone he'd ever known that supported him was either dead in the last mission, or would be writing him off soon.

Everyone but his daughter, who would know the truth.

Fear gripped his heart with that thought, turning to relief when his visor once again snapped shut and his body about-faced to address the [Senator] podiums. He'd already said goodbye to Anni long ago, prior to departing for his final summons. If they'd offered him prison, he'd have denied it simply to not meet who they would turn her into. What pictures they would paint over the loving father she'd once known.

She was young.

"Then, are we in agreement, [Station Commander Tresk]?" [Senator] Barillo asked.

"Yes, unfortunately." the man grunted. "A waste of the Empire's [Credits] is all this man has been."

Kellin's eyes rolled at the statement. He'd contributed at least ten times more than he'd ever been allowed to use, including what was to be used in this supposed exile.

"Alas," Barillo nodded before waving his right arm off to the side. "Open the [Hole]."

A rush of energy saturated the room from all directions as space before Kellin began to warp. The polished stone floor seemed to warble and dip before slowly folding in on itself like a maw, stone elongating and stretching as it broke off and fell into itself. He'd often seen these punishments from afar, but it looked damn terrifying from up close.

Many stirred in the audience, more than a few uncomfortable at being so close to the haunting display of reality bending in on itself. Eventually, the rift began to stabilize, the sand color of the stone slowly being consumed by the void that took over, a black hole leading to nothingness set before him. Five feet in diameter, it looked less like a portal for actual teleportation and more like something you told people was to teleport someone somewhere, but was actually just a destabilized rift that would tear apart anything thrown into and eject it across the Galaxy.

"Couldn't be," Kellin laughed to himself. "Guess we'll find out, aye Gyps?"