In space, no one can hear you scream...or belch, or swear, or cry like a little girl when you're about to be taken down by merciless interstellar bounty hunters who want that mysterious idol you swiped from that hot chick who inexplicably gave you the tip of a lifetime (if you know what I mean) when you showed up at the wrong hotel room with a pizza delivery. This assumes that "you" are ne'er-do-well big-talker Quinn and explains - sort of - how you hooked up (not like that!) with a badass ex-cop (and current mama's boy) named Krunk, who would just as soon kill you as look at you, if not both. By the way, the hot chick is now really hot - in the bad way - and this time she's probably going to tip you with a laser ax or a plasma grenade or something. Try talking your way out of that one, spacehole!
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