The Reaper war had reached its apex at the farthest rims in the Milky Way, tearing asunder any semblance of order~which was, indeed, very ironic. Governments could not fathom the severity of their predicament, and thus, in their denial, chose to ignore it. They shunned all the red flags flapping in their faces like some sort of heinous fabrication. However, whispers of this seemingly Lovecraftian threat to the galaxy lingered on the rotten tongues of black market dealers. From Earth and Beyond.
When the crisis was apparent, it was not the governments who took advantage, but the many illegal organizations that operated under the radar. Their plans had been strategically lying in wait from the getgo, only to be set in motion by one of the most cataclysmic events to grace mankind. The Fall of Earth.
Shaniqua, in clutch with her red army, had amassed bastions and strongholds to and fro during Humanity’s settlement of Council Space {Noveria namely} ... spilling occasionally into Terminus Space. She has accrued favors waiting to be cashed, and is ready to join the fight.
The incessant rumbling of the metal grates and the chirps of seatbelt warnings notified Shaniqua that she was entering the atmosphere of Illium~an immense depot of trade on the crux of the two major powers’ borders. The hiss of the airlock ceased, and when the vapors cleared, Shaniqua emerged in all of her ghetto glory.
She zipped herself into a thigh-skimming number~a blazer dress with a neckline that plunged into oblivion. Adorned with her trademark hoop earrings and red lips, she lead a bold statement. Each clack of her heel and bounce of her curl turned heads.
Whipped out her PDA.
“Wuz Gucci Ada, yo gurl be in da food court. Dey asses don’t got no chitlins. Shit’s wack, ya feel? Where is you? I be waitin’,”