We're fresh off a week of Guild training, itching for our first Space Adventurer mission. Our bracelets—those sassy, glowing wristbands—ping with excitement, logging our hype. I tap mine, muttering, "Day thirty-nine: Earthly Ramblers, ready to conquer the stars!" It chirps: Log saved. Query: Victory protein shake? "You know me too well, bangle," I chuckle, picturing epic battles to come. Single, 500 years from Earth, I'm Coach Bounce, and this galaxy's my new pitch—time to score big.
We teleport from Habitat-382 to the Space Guild dome, its red glow pulsing like a cosmic heart attack. My body-enhancing suit hums, boosting my speed fivefold, plasma pistol and glowing blades clipped to my hips, power fist gloves itching for action. Fiona's staff, gleaming white with its orb tip, swings casually, her flux mage vibe screaming "don't mess with me." Dmitri grips his magma spear, its red-hot tip sizzling, his shield shimmering with faint fire. We're E-rank adventurers—lowest rung, but the ladder goes up: E, D, C, B, A (Inhuman), S (Mystic), SS (Legend), and SSS (Grand Legend). The dome's bustling with 300–400 adventurers, a mix of spiky Vordex, tentacled Zykarans, and others newbies like us. "Heard there's other ships, other Guilds," Fiona says, her Dublin smarts sharp. "SS ranks are rare; SSS are ghosts." I grin. "We'll be legends, Ramblers. Watch us climb!"
We hit the mission desk, a sleek counter manned by a glowing alien clerk, eyes like neon bulbs. "E-rank team, Earthly Ramblers," I say, flexing in my suit. "Give us glory!" The clerk's voice hums through our bracelets: "Missions are random per rank. Processing." I'm buzzing, imagining alien battles, saving planets. Dmitri cracks his knuckles, ready to spear something. Fiona's eyes glint, her staff's orb pulsing. The clerk hands us a holo-pad: Mission: Clean Dump No. 275. I blink. "Dump? Like… garbage?" The clerk nods. "Waste facility maintenance. Report immediately." My heart sinks like a botched deadlift. Fiona groans, "This is our big start?" Dmitri's scowl could melt steel. My bracelet logs: Mission assigned. Query: Trash cardio benefits? "Not funny," I mutter, deflated.
We teleport to Dump No. 275, a cavernous pit reeking of alien sludge, glowing green and bubbling like a cosmic smoothie gone wrong. Robotic drones zip around, sorting debris. Our suits keep us nimble, but the stench hits like a punch. "This ain't no victory lap," I grumble, grabbing a cleaning rod. Fiona's staff morphs to sword mode, slicing through gooey piles like a chef. "At least it's sharp," she quips, but her eyes flick to me, soft for a split second before hardening. Dmitri's shield flares with wind, blasting trash into bins, his spear scorching stray gunk. "Moscow alleys were cleaner," he growls. I swing my power fist, smashing a chunk of space junk, my blades carving through like butter. "We're the galaxy's janitors!" I laugh, trying to rally. My bracelet pings: Activity logged: Cosmic sanitation.
We chug focus-enhancing drinks—bitter, like expired energy shots—giving us a 15-minute buzz of clarity before a weak crash. Fiona's flux arrows zap debris with precision, but she sways post-drink, muttering, "Worth it." Dmitri's fire-coated shield holds strong, but he slumps after, grumbling. I use the black binding rope to haul heavy loads, my suit's strength making it feel like string. "Teamwork makes the dream work," I call, dodging a splash of sludge. Fiona snorts, "Dream's a nightmare." Dmitri's smirk says he agrees, but he's onto her glances at me, silent as ever.
Hours later, we're done, sweaty and reeking, teleporting back to the dome. The clerk scans our work: "Satisfactory. E-rank credit: 50." I scoff, "Fifty credits for that? I'd rather coach push-ups." Fiona's staff shifts to bow mode, idly aiming at nothing. "Next one better be a fight." Dmitri nods, spear glowing. I log: Day thirty-nine: Survived garbage duty. Earthly Ramblers, aiming higher. The dome's hum mocks us, but we're unbroken, dreaming of SS ranks. Somewhere, a sleek alien in dark metal watches Alex, per the elder's orders, unseen.