The Gek Reckoning – The Feud of MrShmurders, Admiral of the Black
An outlaw’s tale etched in starfire and memory cores.
They say he was born nameless—just another scrapper drifting between Vy’keen war zones and dying Korvax ruins. But the stars don’t remember him that way. Out there, in the fringe systems where law ends and legend begins, he is known by a darker title:
Admiral of the Black.
And his war began on Yit’zel-Kar.
It was a neutral moon, a trade hub built atop an ancient First Spawn ruin. There, MrShmurders was closing a deal—offloading a haul of quantum-wrapped Korvax memory cores smuggled from a fallen observatory. Beside him was Helm-Echo, a reprogrammed Korvax he called friend—maybe the only one.
Then came the Fatted Claw, a Gek guild tracing its bloodline to the First Spawn, the old empire that once ground Korvax worlds to ash. They wore smiling faces and offered fat bids, but MrShmurders had seen the shadows behind their eyes. He refused their deal.
That night, the Fatted Claw struck.
Helm-Echo was ripped apart, his soul-core shattered and scattered like trash. The memory cores vanished into the black markets of S’ratha Prime. When MrShmurders returned to the docking bay, all he found was silence and a Gek war emblem burned into the wall—a First Spawn sigil.
The next day, he vanished.
Weeks later, freighters began disappearing. Gek convoys went dark. Stations built atop First Spawn relics were found gutted and aflame. On every ruined hull was the same calling card: a black sigil painted in orbital soot, and a red phrase scratched into the steel in Korvax script:
“Debt Acknowledged.”
Word spread like solar fire: the smuggler had become something else. A ghost. A storm. An executioner.
Admiral of the Black—a title forged not in fleet command, but in vengeance. He commanded no nation, no system, no flag... only the cold, absolute wrath of someone who had lost everything to an empire that claimed to be long dead.
But the First Spawn never truly died. Their blood still fuels the trade guilds. Their sigils mark ancient vaults. Their arrogance, like a sickness, remains.
And MrShmurders?
He hunts it.
Relentlessly.
Ledger by bloody ledger.