Ichika paused and checked her map.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Kasdan to draw a proper map, but so few Ultras actually visited the Rogue Planet that equally few remembered enough to list down where exactly they'd gone. At the very least, Kasdan had bothered to list the names of the places in the map of the area she was visiting.

Hopefully, she wasn't here on a fool's errand.

It hadn't surprised Ichika that the Rogue Planet would have a marketplace-or specifically-an agora. Seijin of possibly every breed in existence either clustered around stalls with thatched roofs or ran them, shouting and talking in their respective languages and dialects, English, other Earth languages and dialects or just some that were totally indecipherable. Cloaked assassins marched to and fro, glowing eyes of various colours scanning for their targets; bounty hunters clad in either armour or bodysuits, chests covered in bandoliers, searched around for their respective bounties; a few notorious criminals and thieves cloistered in small groups, sharing supplies and loot; space pirates discussed journey plans with their crews. Ichika passed one who looked particularly mean, and their baby Zandrias squawked at her in response before their owner headed away with them.

The dull browns and khakis of the place made Ichika feel a bit out of place, considering her softer appearance with a lavender lace-trimmed cloak and gloves-stockings pair. She didn't want to have to ally herself with anyone wanted either, but it wasn't out of malice; the Council would have her head if she tried.

Or would they?

Her stomach rumbled and she sighed, holding it with one gloved hand. She had been here for almost 18 hours now, and had skipped both breakfast and lunch. It wouldn't do to skip dinner either. Part of her wanted to call it a day and leave, or seek out a place to sleep immediately, but another part of her felt like it was being digested to sate her hunger.

I suppose I better find something to eat before I have to spend the rest of my night popping antacids, she thought, and turned to look around the agora.

The majority of the stalls sold provisions like thermal blankets, tear-proof tents, padded sleeping bags, dried snacks and drink powders enriched with essential nutrients, waterproof rubber sheets and various melee weapons or guns. A few sold more optional items like portable sewing kits, small bales of various fabrics, metal implements like keychain rings, sketchbooks and stationary like pencils, while others provided services like scrying or information regarding certain targets. One in particular consisted of a purple conical tent that was open, revealing a black void. As Ichika passed it, a pair of eerie-looking blue eyes appeared in the black space and stared at her, scrutinising her for a moment before disappearing and closing the tent's folds.

"Creepy", she muttered to herself, then continued forward.

The place was named the 'Fud Kort', and rightfully so (forgiving the spelling). It was basically a large expanse of stalls huddled under a thatched rubber sheet that served as a roof. The entrance was covered with blanks made of thin wooden rods, leaving an opening for patrons to enter and leave.

As Ichika ducked in, the scent of several appetising aromas wafted up her nose and made her stomach growl louder. The smell of cooked and seasoned meats and vegetables, baked goods and even the smoky odour of various alcohols was tempting, enough that she wanted to pull her hood down and let more of the aromas fill her nose, but knowing discretion was important, she left it up and quietly padded in.

The other patrons turned to see who the newcomer was, eyeing her for a brief, tense moment before going back to their food and drinks. Ichika wove in and out of tables occupied by various Seijin bounty hunters, assassins, team captains or members on missions or even certain wanted criminals, slurping up a sludgy brown broth or slugging concentrated alcohols that foamed at the rims of their tankards. One or two scary faces turned to scrutinize her a moment before looking down again, while other studiously ignored her as she finally managed to head up to the bar, leaning on it.

"So, how do I get a drink in here"? Ichika mused to herself, looking at the mostly-empty bar. Then, as if to answer her question, a bottle of what looked like glowing green gin floated up to her and she grabbed it, purely out of reflex rather than voluntary action.

"What"? a harsh contralto asked her, and she looked up to see the thickset figure of an Alien Mefilas woman standing over her, blue eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Ain't you ever been here before"?

"Not really", Ichika muttered thickly, gripping the bottle in case she needed to use it as a weapon. "This is my first time".

The woman stared at her so hard it wouldn't have been a surprise if her gaze bored a hole through her cloak's hood. Ichika held her magnetic gaze for what seemed like an eternity, until the tension between them was broken unexpectedly.

"Woah! Woah! Hey now, there usually aren't that many pretty faces around here"! a cheery voice with a strong Cockney accent called out, and before Ichika could react, the slender black and gold figure of an Alien Babarue man in his early 20s slid up beside her. His gold horns and shoulder spikes poked out of a dark brown cloak that looked just as rugged as he did, what with all the cuts and scars littered all over his arms and legs, but he looked steady enough on his feet that it she tossed the possibility of him being drunk out of her head. "Who're you"?

The barlady scoffed and ducked into a room at the back, picking up a glass to wipe as she did, while the man settled in the stool next to Ichika, who quietly stuffed the bottle she had been holding earlier into a fold in her cloak just in case he decided to try anything funny with her here.

This was about to get interesting.