Prescott was tossed into a cell beneath the palace, fully unconscious. Once the guards were gone, a young lady, who couldn't have been older than twenty-earth-years-old, looked over at the unconscius stranger in the cell across from her. She made sure the area was clear before meditating on the floor. Her consciousness left her body, walking over to Prescott and began interacting with his mind. As her fingers touched Prescott's head, she saw everything... The Fractured Remnants, the Scott's fall into the blackhole, all of Prescott's memories on display for her to watch like holo-movies.
She watched all of the pains Prescott had endured... the loss of his parents, the many nights he'd spent at the barracks gym destroying punching bags to drown out the sounds of his failures. She saw how willing he was to die for those he cared for, those he commanded, those he loved... Her consciousness determined him to be trustworthy and snapped him awake before returning to her body...
Prescott snapped awake and sat up. However, he may have been unconscious, but his mind knew someone had interfered with his memories. He locked eyes on the young lady. He went to speak but she shook her head, then spoke to him telepathically. "Don't speak with your mouth. The guards will hear you.... who are you?" She asked, eyes full of wonder. Prescott nodded slowly, his eyes fixated on her eyes that had pupils in the shape of a five-point star. "My name is... Prescott Philip of the Fractured Remnants. Your turn, star eyes." The young lady giggled at the nickname he'd called her. "My name is Princess Mizuki Snow, disgraced princess of this authoritarian empire..."
While Prescott and Mizuki spoke, back on Xephos II, Michigan slammed his armored hand onto the makeshift meeting table, nearly breaking it. "YOU SPINELESS COWARDS! YOU'RE REALLY GOING TO ABANDON HIM!?!" Yelled the older explorer. Michigan's breath could've steam-ironed a shirt with how hot and angry it left his lungs. Michigan's grip on the table left finger marks dented into the metal. "So Prescott saves all of us, has his team injured and we what? Abandon him with the Snowesians?! For the sake of something... WHY!? TELL ME WHY!?" Despite his seat at the table of leaders, every other leader outranked him. Without Prescott's backing and without him there, Michigan was the leader trying to solidify their lives in this corner of the universe. However, the other leaders were scared, and only took him as a joke. In their words, he was an "Inferior Prescott." Once the meeting was over, Michigan went over to the the Scotts and informed them of the outcome. Naturally, they were disheartened and upset, but that's when Arscott emerged from the Spirit of Freedom.
Her eyes were dull, but they pierced Michigan's soul. "So what YOUR plan?" She asked with a lethally cold tone of voice. Michigan looked at her and nodded just before removing his helmet. His sandy-blonde colored hair swayed breeze, ocean-blue eyes looking defeated. His peach-colored skin seemed to glow in the fading hours of sunlight. He looked as if his name should've been California with everything from the hair on his head, down to the core of being. Michigan sighed heavily, "The other leaders don't listen to me. In their words, "you're an inferior Prescott", and they just sat there. They're just scared shitless, but they can't see that we won! With only one captured!"
Arscott slapped him across the face, making him yell out... "THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!" Arscott's helmet depressurized, and as she took it off, her short, pink-white split-dyed hair waved in the breeze against her peach-colored skin, illuminated by her pink-pupiled eyes. "To make it look like I hate you. Midnight, tonight, the Scotts will be at the Pacific Crusier..." Arscott leaned down to stare directly into Michigan's eyes. "Help us get him back." His eyes widened as he saw Jetscott nod at him approvingly. Michigan nodded, "Yes, ma'am. The Pacifics are at your service... and we won't fail you."