Pete Slack buttoned his coat. "Time to head over to see how this is going," he said to Marta as she adjusted her broach. Marta was a dressed prude and Slack knew that's where it ended.

Marta paused at her laptop, "Corrdinates matched the activity."

"What?" Pete asked.

"The activity is legit."

"So?"

"They have found the Quarter."

A flash of celeste light pinged the room.

"Fuck I hate it when he does that."

Pete had transported to the Quarter, known as Earth locally. His suit matched local fashion and New York City was the local name of that temporas region. Pete walked out of a phone booth.

"1992," he thought. Phonebooths were dinosaurs.

"Assessment 2r Lukiiko. Quarter could become trouble for us," Marta had said euos ago. So they just decided it was worthwhile to bleed their daylight to another system. Meetings upon meetings with Shahwala, as Quarterfolk called Alpha Centauri.

A few transactions later, Pete had secured payment in the form of all egi sectors from Shahwala in terms negotiated at a disasterous price, though negotiated faithfully by both parties. Shahwalans were known for tedium, yet Slack's group operated outside of time, space and matter. A few minutes were meaningless. A few hours. Years. Whatever.

Pete arrived the station and pushed the button. The Quarterstar went black. Quarterlings were insane creatures destroying their planet through systemic hatred of self. Vanity, greed, lust, and other archetypes had somehow overcome sanity at some point during future violent periods.

Pete had lunch.