[Salone]

Jack leaned out from his shelter of boxes, sizing up the situation before pistol fire forced him back.

"Wait, who as that?"

He leaned back out again just in time to see a blonde youth run one of his assailants through with a rapier. He cheered, raising a prosthetic fist in the air. He only had a moment before the hand was blown away by pistol fire, forcing him to take cover once again. He cursed himself inwardly for being so stupid. Hands could be replaced. Crew hands could not.

"Is it crew hands?" he thought, "Is that what they're called? it makes sense but sounds so odd."

He crawled towards the other side of the now bullet-beaten crate he was hiding behind, firing at Julius and his men with his one good hand. Servo motors and mech fluids trailed from the stump that had been his other hand, making it appear that he was bleeding profusely.