2060, Heisenburg Estates, The Moon

Roland woke up in a cold sweat. He had, apparently, felt that the fetal position, fully clothed, and on top of his sheets was the most comfortable position last night. Through the lead cotton haze which surrounded his brain the events of the night previous tumbled through like ice into tumblers of gin. He smiled at his own simile, as he'd had enough fingers of the cheap oily stuff at the local pub for his own two hands and a few spare.

Him and his mates, they'd gone round to the pub for a quick drink when someone had started trouble. There were more and more of them these days, gorillas in black uniforms who thought that the crown on their shoulder gave them the sky above their heads and, more importantly, the right to spit a beer in the face of Buttons the Publican, who had personally rubbed Roland's back as he told profane secrets while lying tortured under the table and influence of wine. Buttons was a good man. He swore like a sailor and had called Roland and his upper-class friends a bunch of fairies more times than they cared to remember but, hey, that was Buttons. He was a nasty old man with one eye who drank on the job, but he was THEIR nasty old man with one eye who drank too much. And unfortunately for the offending patron and the gang of black garbed goons who had come with him, Roland was the son of Sir Kojo Pierce.

In a fight, more often than not, being drunk is a disadvantage compared to being, let’s say, sober. Very little indeed is on your side when you've got no choice but to swagger, lest you fall over. But, when you know this, you can play it off. And, when Sgt. Wood extended his hand briefly to shake Roland took it with the right and broke the half-full bottle of gin over the side of his head with the left. Young Mr. Pierce's friends, who were all fairly thick but good for a laugh, charged into the fray with chairs and laughter while Roland led the boys into glorious battle, gifted amateurs giving it to the professionals.

And the next morning, when Lady Von Heisenburg heard the news, she looked to her husband, the Knight Captain Kojo Pierce, and told him that they had a problem.

Things were not well, around the small but rich city that had cropped up around the cooling towers of the nuclear facility. Jarvis' bandits had taken a liking to the area, and the roar of their motorcycles could be heard in the distance even as they spoke. The Crown was demanding more and more tribute by the month in exchange for precious, precious uranium. People were hungry. Corporate Security was cracking down on the bulletsmiths that had cropped up around the sulfur quarry that had recently started digging just south of town. And now the horse doctor had three low-ranking security officers and two children of petty nobility because the firstborn son in the most influential noble family in the entire quarter of The Moon couldn't cool his heels.

It was time for young Roland Pierce to leave home.