Billy had managed to blend with all the others on the deck after sneaking onboard. It wasn't that hard, since most of the patrons on the Andromeda were drunk, even though the ship had recently just departed. In 1 hour, the ship would be flying past the moon, the perfect moment for his crew to land on the ship. Billy was lost on this huge ship, but he had finally found his way to the bottom of it.

  Unlike the rest of the space liner, which was warm and inviting, this part of the ship was purely technical. CAUTION signs along with exposed pipes were on the walls, and the metallic floor left a strange echo as Billy walked down the corridor.

  Strange green lights that spelled out OPERATIONAL on various sections of the ship made him curious and occasionally, he would get distracted looking at the odd machinery. It was extremely cold down below to keep all the circuits from overheating, and they let out a strange blue glow along the ridges of the walls.

Billy hated the rich, their fancy clothes, their fancy machines, even the way they spoke. Today would be a fun day for him, getting to take out the trash.

  Billy's job was to make sure that the rest of the crew could come on board. To do that, he had to ensure that there was no security on board, or it was during the time of least security. He knew the perfect distraction.

   Billy found a utility closet and hid himself inside it. He patiently waited a whole hour, when he knew the Andromeda would be passing by the Moon. On the itinerary it said they would park right near it, for ' a scenic dinner view'. Now was his chance.

  He checked all the things he would need in his back pack before he would set out : extra clothes, gas mask, gas cannisters, hatchet, two handguns, bullets, visual scrambler, and a backup pair of sunglasses. He exited the closet and made his way for the captain’s control room.

  He knew the control room would be heavily guarded, so he couldn't make a mistake. Billy took the gun out of his holster, made sure the silencer was attached and walked with purpose. As he walked down the hallway, he came across the janitor. He shot him in the neck, and blood sprayed against the walls as he clutched his neck.

 Billy shot him again, in the head, in case he somehow managed to survive. His blood covered the pipes and dripped into the ridges where the blue glowing circuits were housed. Billy stared at it, enjoying the colors, becoming easily distracted. Jerking suddenly, he returned to reality and groaned.

He needed to be more precise, he was wasting time.

  A security guard came around the corner and saw him. Without hesitation Billy strode towards him, keeping his arm straight and firing right into his chest.

  When he was finally close enough the last bullet pierced his right eye, and it popped like a balloon, getting blood all over Billy's shirt, and he shook with rage. He was tired of his dry cleaner bills. He was also upset at the lack of security. Billy didn't like games that were too easy.

  He wandered to the bottom of the ship, using his visual scrambler to blur his body on the cameras. He knew by the time he found the control room that they might have already locked it down, or they might have evacuated.

  Either way he would stop the ship from moving any further.

  The further he made his way through the halls the more people he killed. He walked quietly, trying to avoid making noise as he walked on the echoing tiles. He had the element of surprise and was able to kill the strongest looking guards before they could use their abilities. No matter if they were a regular human or an astral, no one was impervious to a head wound.

  When he finally found the control room, he again became irritated. It was protected by a large, metallic door, with a thumbprint scanner. Billy hated these. It was extra work. The door looked too thick for the hatchet in his backpack to cut through, so with a heavy groan he turned around.

  As if he were forced to do the dishes, or finally fold some laundry, Billy shuffled his feet to the nearest corpse he could find. The deceased security guard who had several bullets in his skull and arm was chosen.

  With a quick slice and a whack of his hatchet, Billy got his thumb. The hardest part to cut through was the bone, but recently he had improved his craft.

  The joints were the best point to aim for, as he could just crack and then cut his way through. He cut off the other thumb too for good measure, so he wouldn't have to waste time walking back.

Should have worn gloves today, he thought.

At least he knew with the lack of security he would be done soon.

  He walked straight back to the control room and pulled a gas mask and three canisters out of his backpack. He left the backpack outside the door. After making sure it was properly secured, he opened the door with the guard's thumb.

  After gaining access to the control room, he walked straight in and saw the crew. The crew inside were shocked of course, by the masked man with the thumbs and canisters in his hands.

 "What are you doing in here", yelled the captain.

  Ignoring him, he promptly shut the door and released the canisters. The crew mates fell to the ground, coughing, gasping for air. Some of them made it close to him but Billy simply took a few steps to the side as the nerve gas made quick work of their systems. They turned purple in their faces, eyes bulging and groaning.

  A few managed to speak and Billy watched intently, loving the moment when they would struggle in vain, writhing on the floor like worms on the pavement during a summer storm. Billy waited patiently until they all collapsed.

   Quickly he shot them all in the head and exited the room. He ran down the halls as fast as he could and went to the next floor, trying not to waste time.

  He broke into the first suite he came upon and took his time showering off any possible exposure to the gas, and of course, the blood that was stuck under his nails.

He hated that.

   He changed into a nicer dress shirt and pants for dinner later that evening. It would be so nice. Billy wore his favorite sunglasses, even though they clashed with his outfit. They made him feel confident.

  Billy didn't feel like cleaning up after himself. That was what room service was for. So, he left the thumbs on the table near the bed and left for the main event.