[Nepharski]

"What!?"

The Overseer was not a very happy Vykker to begin with. He hated his job, so he made as much an attempt at possible to be perfect at it, in hopes that his talents would be recognized and he'd get a ticket out of this Hell-hole. His superiors, conversely, recognized his talents and quitely decided amongst themselves that he was too valuable an employee in this particular feild, and so deemed to keep him there. Stuck perpetually in the economical machine of the Magog, the Overseer was rather disgruntled; so often, in fact, that his state of anger become his normal natural state of being, to the point where simply ignoring everyone counted as a good day. Suffice to say, he'd seen more than someone else's fare share of unhappiness, and it would really take something big to force any further alterations in his mood.

This, was one of those "Big somethings."

"We go all this way to find a missing collector, and you bastards get the wrong guy!?"
"Moriarty, sir, it's not what it looks..."
"Oh, I can see that dipwad. What, you think I'm blind!?"
"No, sir, Moriarty, sir, no, Moriarty, sir, no."
"Here I am, almost relaxing myself (See note on ignoring everyone), when I hear there's been a malfunction. Well, what kind of malfunction? I ask myself. Turns out, we've got a stow-away in the first class. Common filth, IN FIRST CLASS!!"
"Sir..."
"OH, but it get's better doesn't it? Turns out, our guest of honor has disappeared. Imagine that. Well, can you!?"
"Yes, si-"
"Oh, would you just shut up! If my cousin Humprey had survived that horrible accident and was here right now..."

Virgil crawled through the ducts above, not really paying attention to the scene below him. He'd figured it was time to move when the intercom rang "Overseer to steering. Overseer to steering. We have a situation." He didn't like the sound of the Vykker in the next room, so he focused on other matters, such as the rather convenient size of the ducts. Note to self: When constructing lair of moral ambiguity, check that air ducts are too small to crawl through. He scurried on. "It's Winter's fault," he thought, gloomily, "That's why I'm here."

He found a nice little corner, far away from the racket, to settle down in. "Better get some sleep, before the ship lands." He stretched and lay down on the cold, steel floor. The sounds of the fans lulled him to sleep, even over the sounds of Overseer Moriarty below, spilling coffee on himself.

"GAH!!"

To Be Continued...