The haunting space lanes of Syndicate, where many a traveller has fallen to the raiding bandits that prowl and hunt the lonely and ill-prepared - murder and bloodshed, robbery and torture. The trapped souls of a thousand crewmen scream out but nobody hears them, cursed for eternity, no escape, locked into the silence that entombs them.
A scene of destruction at a now quiet stargate. Littered with corpses, floating. Wrecks strewn across the dark skies, the twisted metal once hot, now cooling. Redundant drones, smashed to pieces, their last streams of power slowly draining as they buzz across the field with no direction.
The bandits have gone, into the night, nobody knows where. They've disappeared like a flash, in and out, swift and brutal. Somewhere down the pipe, inside their den, perhaps a bar or a brothel for ten, they count their coin, their ill-gotten gain and they make good their plans for robbery again.