The Mustelid watched the heavy rainclouds form overhead, turning the concrete landscape into a lifeless gray afternoon. He had been watching out the window for several hours now without fatigue or fail, for he knew his prey would come eventually.

“Zoom.” He spoke the command to his built in Net-Comm system in a whispery voice.

The HUD zoomed in across the street and focused on a thin Procyon walking through a crowd, headed towards the corner diner and meatatorium. A creeping grin spread across the Mustelid Wolverine’s face. This was finally the Titan for whom he had been searching, or one of them at the least. He stood from his seat.

“Excuse me lad, are ya gonna pay fer it?” A gruff voice emanating from an old Rodentia Beaver at the counter behind him asked.

The Wolverine glared at the speaker, who immediately regretted his words. Among Titans there were clear class divisions among the many races. These were first and foremost divided between the predators and non-predator races. The non-predator races usually excelled at scholarly work and work that required dexterity, guile or wit, while the predator races took to physical jobs excellently. But even within these two categories were the Titans further subdivided. Among the predators were many races of Canids and Felids, with the Wolfen usually being among the most feared. There were others however, that many Titans feared even more than these, and chief among them were the fierce and unyielding Wolverines, who had a reputation for being ruthless and completely fearless.

The shopkeeper seemed to realize that he was speaking to one of these Wolverines mid-sentence, because the statement and tone of voice changed drastically as the smaller Mustelid turned and placed the holo-mag back on the rack.

“It’s ok lad, free of charge t’ browse.” The Beaver shopkeeper said through a fake laugh. “You ‘ave a great day sir.”

The Wolverine growled, causing the shopkeeper to jump, pulled his fur-lined poncho back over his head and began walking casually across the street. He was in no particular hurry, for he knew right where to find what he was looking for.

* * * *

Rocco laughed heartily as he slammed the ball into the goal and turned to face his opponents.

“In your face!” He cheered, raising both arms in victory. “In your ugly panting faces! That’s game!”

His opponents were two mongrel Canids, indeed panting from the exertion, were some type of greyish-brown color who began growling immediately. His partner in the two vs two game, a large Felid Puma as large as he was, snarled right back at the pair.

“You got a problem butt-lickers?” The Felid’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“A hundred credits, that was your idea, pay up.” Rocco added.

The two Canids looked as though their very cores were smoldering with rage at the idea of just having lost to a Felid and having to pay on their debt. They exchanged a look between them, and Rocco eagerly readied himself for a fight. To his ultimate disappointment however, one of the Canids drew his hand inside of a large duffle bag and returned with a handful of physical credits. With a look of burning shame he handed the cash over to Rocco, not being able to bear the insult of giving it to the Felid.

“I have to admit, for a non-predator, you’re damn good at goalball.” The Canid said. “I’m starting to think we were hustled.”

“The bet was your idea.” The Puma returned coolly.

“Anyhow, I haven’t seen you around here. If you’re going to be in the area for long, we should definitely meet again to talk about joining our team.”

Rocco recognized this subtle trap from his experiences on Gunrock. There were not nearly as many Canids in his homeland, which was dominated much more by Felids, but he had still seen similar situations. Out of all the Titan races, Felids and Canids stuck together and loved to form gangs and packs that became like familial units over time. It was somewhat flattering to be invited, as he knew that was not a thing that these types of Titans offered readily to outsiders, especially outsiders who were not also of their own race. On the other hand, he had witnessed the infighting and pack wars that could come out of this and would just as soon stay out of it.

“Appreciate the offer lads, but I have to pass. I’m not going to be in Towerview not nearly long enough to do that offer the justice it deserves.” Rocco spoke these words with sincerity, even though they had moments ago been brutal rivals.

The two Canids’ ears perked, and they both seemed intensely pleased with this respectful response. They both patted their chests in the traditional Titan salute and turned to leave the Sportatorium. Rocco then promptly handed over half of the winnings to the Puma still standing beside him, watching the two Canids depart.

“Idiots.” He said while shaking his head.

“Well they are dogs after all.” Rocco returned. “You can only expect so much out of ‘em.”

“He’s right you know; I’ve never seen a lesser race play like that. What are you going to do with your cut? Fifty creds is a lot to make in one day legally.” The big Felid raised an eye at him. He was right after all, that was more than most laborers in the city made weekly.

“Me and my brothers are saving up.” Rocco returned, ignoring the marked racist comment and stuffing the credits into a pouch in his pants. “We’re looking to get off Titan, first chance.”

“And what do you suppose to find up there among the stars?”

Rocco’s face scrunched up as he thought about the question posed to him. The truth was, he had never thought too deeply on the subject, it was his brothers who wanted to leave and escape the dangerous bounty hunters that would surely be on their tail. Of course there were stories and adventure vids that he had followed, many including the daring deeds of pirates and pirate hunters out among the stars.

“I dunno, Geon? Sheol? Io?” Rocco shrugged.

The muscular Puma laughed a hearty laugh. “Have you even been off world, mate?”

Rocco looked back at the Felid, not knowing whether he was being insulted or not. He shook his head guardedly.

“It’s not all flowers and roses up there t’be sure. Geon is a rubbish pile, filled with the worst scum in the universe. Pirates and kidnappers and th’like. Io is where the rich go to vacation, and also where they keep a lot of the robot factories. Lots of places here easier to hide from Zenith Corp than on Io.”

“You’ve been off-world?”

The Puma nodded, seeming to get a measure of joy from the Procyon’s apparent fascination. The sides of his powerful jaws curled into a slight smile.

“Aye. Used to be on with a freighter captain as security. That was a long time ago.”

“So, you were actually out there, and you decided to come back here to this dump?”

“Well, I reckon some of the space stations were right nice places. Had a ball of a good time on some of them.” He winked at the Procyon. “Wanna go to the food court mate? C’mon I’ll spin a few yarns for ya.”

Rocco hardly had to think about it for long. He did not give his trust out casually but was beginning to feel as though he had found a fast friend in the powerful Felid. They left together in pursuit of one of both Titans’ favorite things, food.

* * * *

Rocky entered the diner as the afternoon sunlight died away and began to be replaced by a light drizzle that pattered off the large windows. He paused for a moment to read his surroundings. So far, he had not found many truly friendly places within the harsh, cheerless city of Kallerish, but the brightly lit interior gave him hope for this place. Among the patrons, he did not see any Titans that appeared as though they were escaped killers or psychopaths, as he had thus far seen pretty much everywhere he had been so far in this city.

Now he was faced with another dilemma. He had come in response to the random message he received, an admittedly poor choice, but he had no real idea of who this person was who had been asking to meet up. As he gazed around at the faces inside the diner, he was not even sure if he should be looking for a male or female.

There was a group of boisterous Canids at a table near the door who paid him no heed, happily devouring their plates of cooked meat as he entered, and he immediately dismissed them. After their table was a mischief of younger Rodentia and one Lagomorph Rabbid, all of them barely more than kits. After this group was a pair of exotic looking Marsupia Possums that looked to be sharing a romantic moment in time. But there seemed to be no one that grabbed his attention. He didn’t know exactly what he expected, or what to look for, but he knew for certain that nobody here fit that broad description.

Rocky was about to leave, chalking up the experience to some manner of prank or the like, when a hard-faced old Rodentia prairie dog caught his gaze and waved him over. The older, tan furred Prairie Dog was dressed smartly, wore spectacles and a small brimmed hat. Some of the fur around his chin and nose had gone gray with age.

“You sent me a message?” Rocky asked warily upon his approach.

“Have a seat my good fellow.” The Rodentia waved to the empty booth across from him. Rocky regarded it for a moment before sliding in.

The wizened old Titan seemed genuinely amiable and warm natured. Rocky realized how rare a thing that seemed to be in this city but was not ready to trust the situation just yet.

“Care for a banger while you wait?”

The Rodentia sipped from a teacup filled with a sugary, syrupy drink called Gothamir Punch, or as the Rodentia who tended to greedily consume it preferred the nickname “banger.” Rocky saw that there was already a cup situated across from the old Titan. He sat down and accepted the drink.

“What’s an old Herby like you doing at a place called the Meatatorium?” Rocky asked suspiciously. “Seems like a right good place for Canids and Felids to be, didn’t expect so many Rodentia and Lagos.”

“Ah but this is my favorite diner in all of Gothamir.” The Prairie Dog answered with a genuinely warm smile. “They have a pea and carrot soup that is simply to die for! Don’t also overlook the black bean burgers here, or the wide variety of salads.”

As if on cue, a waitress came over to deposit a plate that looked comically oversized to the smaller Rodentia, who began rubbing his hands together covetously. He picked up a fork and began pointing to his prize.

“A delicious mix of fescue and tumble grass, splashed with dandelions and sprinkled liberally with hay cubes and sweet potato pellets.” The old Titan heaved a loaded fork into his mouth and closed his eyes, savoring the delicacy. “Mmmm. Simply wonderful!”

Rocky watched the display dubiously. Being a Procyon, he had the benefit of a wide diet, but could simply not wrap his head around the appeal of a purely vegetarian meal.

“Are you waiting for someone dear kit?” The Titan asked between chews. “If you care for a bite, please be my guest. They have many other dishes here that would please even the pickiest of Felids. This much I know to be true. I mean of course both the fact that most Felids are insufferably picky and that this establishment could please the worst of them.”

“I was supposed to meet someone here. When you called me over, I was under the assumption that you might be that person.”

“Oh?” Came the ambiguous reply as the Rodentia barely looked up from his meal.

“Don’t expect him to be much for conversation when he has a plate of fescue in front of him.” Came a feminine voice next to the table.

Rocky looked up to see a young female Prairie Dog standing next to the table, her fur and markings seemed to indicate that she was in fact related to the old Titan. He was instantly thrown off-guard by her slender but feminine figure and her large warm smile.

“I’m Reegan.” She announced politely, while sliding into the booth next to the other Rodentia across from him.

“Ah yes, I’d like you to meet my daughter, good chap.” The older Rodentia stated rather absent-mindedly.

She extended her slender hand across the table, and Rocky accepted it gently, looking into her deep green eyes.

“I’m glad to finally meet you. Are you Ricky?” She asked.

Rocky looked over to the old Titan, still preoccupied with his plate of food and narrowed his eyes. “You were expecting me!” He exclaimed.

“But of course. Why else would I wave you over to join me?”

At this point Rocky’s guard had dropped significantly. The only danger he felt he was in from this old Titan was from his forgetfulness. And maybe the coy look in the female’s eyes. Rocky covered his face with his hand and shook his head wearily.

“Who are you Titans?”

“Ah yes.” The old Prairie Dog tore himself away from his meal momentarily to regard the younger Procyon across from him. “I am Eligah, a researcher from Gunrock. I knew your father when we were but pups, fresh from the nursery.”

“Kits.” Rocky corrected. He wanted nothing to do with an association to Canids.

Eligah seemed confused for a moment before a light dawned in his dark eyes. He waved his fork dismissively.

“Yes, yes. I was a pup, he was a kit. Language is a wonderfully strange thing my young friend. It can unite us together or drive us apart with the simplest intonation or mispronunciation. Careful how you use it. So, what brings you out in such dreadful weather today good Titan? Can I help you with something?”

“Father this is Ricky, remember?” Reegan padded the old Titan’s shoulder gently.

“Err.” Rocky held up a single finger. “Actually, I am Rocky, Ricky’s my older brother.”

“So, you’re the youngest then?”

“No, that’s my other brother, Rocco. I’m the middle kit.”

“Splendid.” Reegan returned cheerfully and looked towards her father.

“So, you knew my father?” Rocky asked.

“Yes, we got along famously.” Eligah then seemed to have a moment of clarity. “That’s precisely why I contacted you!”

“Sorry Rocky, my father’s memory isn’t what it used to be.” Reegan announced in a hushed tone. Despite this, he still heard.

“Nonsense!” He shooed away the intangible idea with his hands.

“I’m beginning to get that distinction.” Rocky chuckled. “So, what’s this about?”

“My father has been on a quest for the better portion of his life, and recently with his health declining, I’ve taken up his research. Have you ever heard the old legend of the Phoenix Flame?”

Rocky thought for a moment, digesting her words but coming up with zilch. “I’ve heard stories of mythical beasts but I don’t think I’ve heard about whatever it is you are talking about.”

Reegan nodded. “They say once upon a time in the oldest texts that a Titan used to be tasked with defending this planet. He was a being of immeasurable power, capable of traveling the stars.”

“Right.” Rocky didn’t know where this was going, but he had long since graduated from fairy tales and superhero poppycock.

“We have recently uncovered evidence of his existence. There were old legends of an undying flame somewhere on the planet that could summon him. The Phoenix Flame.” She finished her statement with a flourish of her hands.

“What does that have to do with me, my brothers or my father?” Rocky asked.

“We may have hit a little snag that I don’t believe either of us will be able to get around very easily. You see, we need to sneak into a Zenith Corp archeological dig site on the Rook Coast…and well, you can see the danger in that of course.”

Rocky snorted. These Titans wanted him and his brothers to travel to the Canid lands and sneak into a corporate site that would most likely be guarded? These Titans must be off their rockers. He was about to tell them as much, but she cut him off, evidently reading the dismissal in his body language.

“We are willing to pay handsomely. We have an old research vessel that the three of you may have when all is said and done as well.”

“A research vessel?” Rocky asked. “Why on Titan would we need a research vessel? What would we do with it?”

“It’s a space vessel.”

“Oh.” Rocky shut up and began to listen.

* * * *

The Trade Alliance transport trucks came into the district single file and began parking in the middle of the street. Many of the streets had already been electronically re-routed and closed off, something that the Trade Alliance had complete control over in the capitol city.

Sliding track doors opened on the transports and dozens of Trade Alliance Security Officers exited, dispersed with a few black armored Zenith Corp Solders. TASOs moved to the back of the long trailers of the transports and operated consoles. Moments later and the rear hatches opened and sliding tracks came out, filled with Trade Federation combat automatons attached to magnetic clamps. With a flip of a switch, these were activated, released from the magnetic harnesses and the tracks retreated into the trailers. Within minutes, a company of two-hundred auto-units were deployed and ready for combat.

This first group of transports were coordinated with another equal group that had parked on the other end of the sector. They too had a company of combat automatons deployed in as little time. The two companies were part of the Public Relations Division, the Trade Federation’s rather innocuous name for their own private security garrison.

At the spearhead of the unit, Chief Security Officer Rymond strode out to address the other squad leaders and activated his holo-transmitter so those on the other side could hear him as well.

“We’re going in.” Rymond began cheerfully. “Set up a perimeter on both sides here and activate the lockdowns on both of the AstroBlocs. We’re going to find them and make an example out of them. R-Company, you search Golden Groves and D-Company, follow me to Towerview Center.”

The squad leaders began carrying out the orders immediately, and Rymond next spoke into his Net-Comm.

“I need tech support to bring us up the entire plan and census for both AstroBlocs. Run the list of names through the computers and get me a hotlist of areas to begin the search. I don’t want to have to waste time and the element of surprise doing a door-to-door search. I’m looking to get right into kicking down doors and making arrests.”

“Right sir. On it sir.” Came the reply from his secretary, back at the Trade Alliance Headquarters.

Rymond took a few quick sniffs of the rainy air as the light drizzle continued to come down across the city.

“I smell traitors boys! Let’s get ‘em!”