Putting out the call

[Jim Raynor]

Heads up, Jim's not in his armour. It's out in the lobby.

Perhaps the first person in this clown rodeo not to outright prove himself as a blowhard approached Jim. He was an unassuming man; lean, a little dishevelled, clothes dull and drab. The terran commander wondered why someone like him would answer a call like the doctor's, but he knew outward appearances could be deceiving. Hell, there was some man walking around without a face, just some chattering skull in its place. A little monkey boy approached as well, his tail swaying as he scrambled over. He leapt onto the back of a chair and declared his intentions to join their group with simple words.

Jim took a drag of his cigar and dropped it on the floor. He trod on it, rubbing it into the floor. "Sure, never hurts to have someone watchin' your back," he said, smoke surrounding his face in a thin haze. The thin man nodded, but the monkey boy seemed much more pleased with the new alliance.

Taking one of the Liberator Aides, Jim slipped it on his left hand. The screen lay blank for now. He wondered just how terrible these Dark Chips were. From the doctor's warning, they were best destroyed. Jim never was an easily corruptible type. Well, at least not with power. Bourbon, on the other hand ...

"All right, guess we'd better head on out. Anyone got any bright ideas on where to start?"