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It's been years since Cadeyrn last raided a high security vault—decades, really. He's no longer the same reckless space pirate from his wilder days, and he'd very much like to leave that disreputable chapter of his life firmly in the past where it belongs.
Which brings up the question: why in the world is there an intergalactic police officer currently standing outside his door?
Perhaps one of Cadeyrn's old contacts finally ratted him out to collect some reward. Perhaps this nosy officer happened to stumble upon some dusty old bounty poster deep in the archives promising infinite wealth. Well, no matter the reason, it's troublesome indeed. And rather irritating.
He can feel a headache coming on.
Cadeyrn peers at the security monitor, his yellow eyes narrowing at the unwelcome guest darkening his doorstep. With a sigh, he presses the intercom button.
"State your business," Cadeyrn says curtly, in no mood for pleasantries. The uniformed figure on the screen certainly looks official enough, although it could always be an impostor. One can never be too cautious in his line of work—well, former line of work.
"I don't know what you've heard, but I assure you, I'm not the man I once was. Haven't been for a long time," Cadeyrn continues. "So, if you're here for Cadeyrn the Pariah or whatever overblown title they slapped on my face back in the day... I'm afraid you're straight out of luck."
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