Olivia sets her drink down and stares around the table for a moment. "Okay. This is the story of Lt. Raz Ortega’s greatest masterpiece. We’re talking 'genius-level' revenge, and frankly, the moment I was convinced Raz might actually be a certified lunatic. Let me set the scene. It’s 2951, in the middle of nowhere—some dust-ridden backwater system called Nyx. We were all stationed on the UEE Halcyon, a Kraken-class carrier, with a CO who had a stick so far up his ass, I’m surprised he could sit down in the cockpit of his Hornet. Commander Krant: a man who measured his breakfast cereal with a ruler and set his laser sights on making our lives hell. Now, Raz—my boy Raz—wasn't what you’d call 'normal.' We’re talking about a guy who, for fun, tested how long he could EVA naked before things started to... well, freeze. (The answer was two minutes. The aftereffects lasted a week.) Anyway, Raz and Krant didn’t exactly see eye to eye. So one day, after a particularly brutal combat sim where Krant tore into us about 'discipline' and 'the importance of uniform protocol,' Raz snapped. You could see it in his eyes, man. That gleam. The kind you’d see before someone jumps out of an airlock without a tether 'just to see what it feels like.' Three days later, we’re prepping for a fly-by inspection with some fancy UEE brass. The whole squadron’s expected to be out there in formation, including Krant, in his signature Anvil Hornet. You know, the one with custom golden stripes? That thing was his baby. And that’s when it happened. The hangar bay doors creaked open, and there it was—Krant’s golden-striped Hornet...but something was off. It wasn’t gold anymore. It was pink. And I don’t mean 'subtle' pink. I’m talking fluorescent, blinding, eye-gouging pink. The kind of pink that could make a Tevarin warrior weep. Raz had, somehow—and to this day, no one knows how—repainted Krant’s entire ship in the middle of the night. Every. Single. Panel. His entire Hornet looked like a Valentine’s Day catastrophe. Hell, Raz even put little hearts on the missile bays. So there we are, on the flight deck, trying to hold it together while Krant’s pink Hornet floats into view like some kind of cosmic joke. You could hear the collective intake of breath from the brass as they processed what was in front of them. The comms were dead silent for a solid ten seconds, and in space, that’s a lifetime. Then Krant’s voice—icy, deathly calm—cracked the silence. “What. The. Shit.” No one moved. Not a single eyebrow twitched. And then Raz, with the audacity of a man who no longer feared the consequences of mortal existence, calmly keyed his mic. “Sir, I believe it’s in perfect regulation. Just...aesthetic enhancements.” That’s when the UEE brass broke. There was snickering at first, then outright laughter. Even Admiral Solis, who was notorious for having the sense of humor of a brick wall, was crying. I’ve never seen a man of his rank doubled over in a cockpit, but by god, there he was. Now, Krant—oh, Krant was livid. His voice cracked through the channel like a laser round. “Ortega, I swear on Terra’s ashes, I will personally eject you into the sun!” But the brass couldn’t stop laughing, and you know what that means—no one touches you when the top dogs are howling like hyenas. For three whole days, Krant had to fly that pink monstrosity. Every patrol, every formation, every exercise—he was in that ship. No time to repaint it before the brass left. And Raz? Raz walked around like the king of the damned ship. No reprimand, no punishment, because no one wanted to ruin the joke of the century. And the best part? Two weeks later, they gave Raz a commendation for 'team morale enhancement.' I shit you not, a damn commendation. To this day, Krant refuses to speak about it, and Raz? He still carries a can of pink spray paint in his toolkit. 'Just in case,' he says. Insane? Absolutely. Genius? Undeniably. And that’s the story of how a pink Hornet became the stuff of legend aboard the Halcyon. So yeah, that’s my life. Welcome to the UEE Navy, where the combat is fierce, but the pranks? Deadlier.”