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INDICA SYNDICATE BADLANDS ENFORCER
Even in the future, Mars still ain’t a hospitable environment. Blame Reality Corp for killing the Terraforming Initiative. Or blame Mother Martian Nature, who never intended for humans, Dracos, or robots to live here. It won’t make a difference. Take three steps outside, and if the vacuum doesn’t rip your insides out, the temperature will freeze you. Or the radiation will rotisserie you. Did I mention the poisonous atmosphere—hey, how long can you hold your breath, anyway?
But the kush game knows no boundaries. And with travel between Tower Cities restricted and regulated, well, sometimes illegal enterprise needs to head to the great outdoors. That’s when the Indica Syndicate calls upon its Badlands Enforcers. Clad in the latest technological environment survival suits, they’re trained to handle all sorts of extracurricular activities—everything from kush smuggling and turf wars to hunting down traitors who thought they could run. And only the meanest motherfuckers get to join the squad—if you don’t chew glass for breakfast, this outfit just ain’t your speed. Try kindergarten.
