The Kroptonis Talent Institute

PART 1: ACT 1

Xedzor was walking down a dark alleyway with black silhouettes going by.

The Tropti, the kind that Xedzor belonged to, were a raccoon-like species that thrived under the pressure of competition. Thousands of businesses skyrocketed to success and plummeted into nothingness each day - ruthless rivalry was commonplace in the major population centres. The government itself consisted of only the most successful few - those who managed to create a monopoly in their respective sphere.

It wasn't all a terrifying corporatocracy though - the state provided each and every citizen with basic necessities to live a simple life and with quality education to get the skills they need to succeed in this large-scale struggle for power, or so they said.

But not everyone was interested in occupying this hectic, hypercompetitive environment.

The capital Kroptonis, as well every other planet under Troptian rule, had remote settlements known as "The Communes". These secluded towns housed the more sedentary elements of their society that were not willing to adopt the fast lifestyle of big cities, embracing cooperation and stability instead.

One of these villages was often visited by Xedzor and his colleagues.

At the end of every week, they would gather up at an old tavern, drinking the night away. On the next day, they would recover and come to work. This was part of a monotonous cycle that nobody wanted to break.

Xedzor walked into the tavern, early as usual. The foggy, dank room greatly differed from the finest drinking places of the newer districts, but it still had its charm. This place had a soul and you could easily see the care the previous owner put into making it feel cozy and home-like.

Lots of people were sitting at high tables chatting about ultimately meaningless things, some were a moment away from turning the place into a battleground while others would come here just to forget and rest from the daily routine, which ultimately turned these visits into a part of the routine.

The staff was nearly nonexistent - the current owner would seldom turn up only to take advantage of the free drinks. Nobody was there to clean the place - if you made a mess, you would take care of it yourself. The only employee consistently present was the bartender. He was a relatively old man of Kelfian descent.

His kind was a vile, hateful bunch, taught to hate the foreign as soon as they were able to comprehend the idea. Their faces were grey and elongated, dotted with barnacle-like warts. The predator look was accentuated by their terrifying fangs which protruded out of their mouth in an inward direction.

This drink maker was mostly in line with others of his species, except for the large burn mark around his left, blind eye and a general lack of a radical xenophobic attitude, settling for mild distaste instead in order to keep his highly social job a little longer.

The tavern's overall atmosphere was depressing, to say the least. It induced a feeling hopelessness in locals. The Communes were constantly under threat of expungement as the march of progress spread across the planet's surface.

Xedzor looked at the door as it opened. Several coworkers of his walked in and headed into the direction of the table he occupied. It was located in the quiet section of the tavern, surrounded by three walls, with a tarnished, ceiling-high window on the exterior wall. Xedzor quickly adjusted himself to the center of the couch to let others sit down.

The first one to greet him was Tundzi, a young and ambitious Bexturan woman. After the others finished doing the same, they continued the conversation they were having.

"Come on, Tundzi! The answer is right there in front of you," Ferzox, the only other Tropt of the group exclaimed. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I still don't get it. How does one traverse a continent mostly on foot in less than a month? That's purely impossible for the time period we're talking about! The story you're presenting wouldn't be possible for another... Two hundred years probably!"