For this story, I wanted to see if I could give some background to Chance. Given that he had like, five lines in the movie it was a little difficult to pin his personality down, so I had to fill in some of the blanks myself.

As always, reviews and comments are helpful. I don't own anything used in the movie, and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you very much!

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Chance groaned as he stood and rubbed at his back. He had just completed two hours in the flight simulations – and that was never a particularly fun or comfortable task. Still, it was the closest thing to flying that he could actually come to. After the Weyland Corporation had taken away his license, he had tried to get over it, but nothing came even remotely close to the excitement that coursed through his body when he was in the pilot's chair.

He supposed it was probably his fault, though. Mouthing off to one of the corporation's high-ranking executives after an already disastrous mission was not the way to keep his pilot's license. It was probably even more his fault due to the fact that instead of letting Janek and Ravel go down with him, Chance took the majority of the blame. When everything was said and done, the two other men had gotten away with minor infractions of conduct while his license was revoked completely. And just like that, he had gone from being a member of an up and coming elite flight crew to…well, this.

He took out his id card out of the machine with a slight sigh. He didn't have enough money to continue longer. Maybe he would call Janek when he got home. Just to see what's up

After swiping his card, he left the studio and waved a cab down. As he got in, he briefly pondered asking the driver to head to his favorite bar. The prospect of getting just stone cold plasteredsounded really appealing. At least until he remembered that he had no more money left.

Muttering to the driver his home address, Chance leaned his head against the window and watched as they drove. Luckily, the ride was short and spent in relative silence. He usually liked conversation, but all he wanted to do right now was to eat something and go to sleep. When they arrived, he paid and stepped out. For a moment, he just looked up at the apartment building – it was old, old enough to be made of bricks that, if examined closely enough, revealed the fact that the building was slowly but surely deteriorating. Graffiti signatures decorated the outside walls, and he knew that leaks had been plaguing the inside building.

Yeah, it was a shithole. But it was his shithole (one of them was, at least), and when he went inside and walked up the stairs to his room, he was surprised to find himself almost comforted by the setting.

His own rooms weren't that much different from the rest of the building. Chance kept them clean out of habit, and he liked to think it looked decent. Still, given the choice, he'd always meet people in any other place.

It was good enough for him, though, especially considering his state of exhaustion. Bringing himself to the small kitchen space, he fished around in the cabinets until he found a pack of instant noodles – even though after his time in flight school, he swore that he would never again touch the stuff, he couldn't afford to be choosy.

They weren't too bad with alcohol, though. Maybe that's the reason I can't buy much more. He grinned a little at the thought, ripped open the package, set up the water on the stove, and sat down at the table.

While he waited, he flipped through a magazine. It was the latest issue of Flight Monthly, and he must have already read through it a dozen times, but Chance still hadn't tired of it yet. This month's cover story was about the Prometheus. Specific details regarding the ship were scarce, but from the article, he knew it was a cutting-edge exploratory vessel designed by Weyland Corporations.

They might be a bunch of assholes, but they sure know how to build a ship. He flipped through the sketches in the magazine – in addition to being cool as hell, the project was also very secretive. There weren't any actual photos, and many of the details were speculation.

Chance scrunched his face as he read the last paragraph. He wished there was more to it, but he would have to wait a couple of weeks until the next issue came in.

He looked around for something else to do. It was only when his gaze fell onto the stove he remembered what he had been doing in the first place.

"Shit!" Running to the pot, which was now threatening to boil over, he cursed. After throwing the noodles in and a lid on top, he moved to return to his seat.

Almost as soon as he sat down, though, he heard his phone ring.

Really? I already told the electric company I paid their damn –

"Yeah?" He really wasn't in the mood for being polite.

"Whoa, did I catch you at a bad time?"

Chance would've recognized that voice anywhere – he couldn't help grinning.

"Janek, what's up? I haven't heard from you in ages!"

"What the hell do you mean? You haven't called me!"

Chance chuckled to himself. "I've been busy, haven't you heard?"

"Busy doing what? You still teaching?"

"Yup! It's not as bad as I thought it would be…At least, they're not as stupid as I was during flight school. Some of 'em might even make decent pilots one day."

"There haven't been any issues with your own license?"

Some of the joy of the surprise call evaporated at the mention of that. Chance had been really hoping to avoid this topic – couldn't Janek leave it alone?

"Yeah," he said lightly, trying to brush it off, "I thought so too, but the marks against it weren't about my ability, so I guess to them that was good enough. Beggars can't be choosers, right?"

"Yeah, about that," the other man said, and then paused for a moment. "Listen, I'm not gonna bullshit you like everyone else has. How would you like to fly again?"

"What?"

"You heard me, Chance. I think I can get you back in again."

"For real?" He stopped to clear his throat – even if it had only been a year and a half since the incident, the time seemed to have stretched for much longer than that. "Please tell me you're not screwing with me here!"

"Nah, buddy. I had to pull some strings, and some people aren't happy, but they can go and shove their complaints where the sun don't shine."

"What did you have to do?" He had to know exactly how Janek had managed to get this offer on the table – it would hurt to refuse the offer, but Chance couldn't do anything that would compromise his friend's career.

"I can't tell you the specifics now, but let's just say that if they wanted me for something big, I have a couple of stipulations."

"Like?"

"Do I have to spell out everything for you? You and Ravel, you idiot!" Through the speaker, he heard Janek laugh.

"No shit! You must be a real hotshot if they didn't scrap you over that right then and there."

"Lots of things have happened since you left." Janek's tone was odd, almost wistful. Nah, more like…thoughtful?

Chance shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not quite sure how to respond to that.

"So it's for real?" He finally asked.

"And Ravel is signed on?"

"Yeah."

"Then count me in."

"Hah! I knew you wouldn't pass on this! Now I just have to get Vickers to life the restrictions off your license and – "

"Wait! Vickers? Meredith Vickers? You talked to her?" Although he had never met the woman, Chance was already slightly frightened of her. She was something of a legend within the Weyland Corporation. Rumors and stories about her had been circulating for years, but the only things he knew for certain was that she was intimidating and that she had somehow managed to climb into the upper echelons of the company within a very short time.

"Well, yeah." Janek sounded uncomfortable, and Chance was pretty sure he had just said something he wasn't supposed to reveal quite yet.

"What the hell kinda project are we gonna be working on, then? If she's involved, it's important."

"I told you, I can't tell you the specifics right now…"

"Come on, Janek. You know I won't tell a soul!" Chance tried to sound upbeat, like he didn't have worries about what this mission actually was. If they had to keep it so secretive, what were they doing? As much as he wanted his license back, he'd prefer not to be recruited into some sort of suicide mission, thank you very much.

"I suppose as long as you're in on it for sure," Janek sighed. "I'm sure you've heard of the Prometheus?"

"…what?"

"They've asked me to be the captain of the Prometheus on a research voyage. That's all I can say."

Chance's mouth was agape in shock - he wanted to ask his friend a thousand things. Had Janek been in it yet? What did it look like? Why the hell had they chosen him off all people for this?

He finally recovered enough to be able to speak. "Why...How'd you manage that?"

"Like I told you earlier, you've missed out on a lot."

Again with that?

"And you want me to help you?"

"I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have piloting my ship."

"How do you know I'm still any good?"

"I'd bet next month's paycheck you've been in that damn simulation center every day."

"I…" Chance frowned.

"I knew it!" Janek's rich laugh filled the phone.

"So…what do we do now?" He couldn't imagine the process of getting his license back would be easy.

"Well, you'll have to come and meet with Vickers, just like the rest of us had. She'll want to see if you're unfit for duty." Janek paused. "I know you are, but you know how those corporate types are. They have to check damn near everything for their books We can do that this weekend if you're not doing anything."

"Well, I was gonna get wasted, but this sounds like more fun."

"That's the Chance I remember! Now, I gotta go get some stuff taken care of, but I'll hit you up later."

"Sure."

"Just take care of yourself. Alright?"

"Got it. Tell Ravel I'll see him soon."

"Of course. Talk to you later, then."

And then just like that, it was over. Even as Chance looked at the phone in his hands, he could hardly believe it was real. He had just gone from being an exile to piloting one of the most advanced, expensive ships in history.

And, he thought as he looked around at his apartment, that means a better place and food that doesn't taste like cardboard.

Wait. Food.

He remembered that he had been cooking something, and all of a sudden he was aware of a horrible burning smell in the air.

"Aw, crap!" Chance stood and hurried to the stove. His face fell as he saw the pot – or more specifically, what was inside. All of the water had boiled away, and the noodles were either mushy to the point of falling apart or burned onto the bottom of the pan.

Screw that! He turned the stove off, took the pan off the head, and headed to the fridge instead. Grabbing a beer, he made his way to the table again. Although he had just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, the fact remained that he still couldn't make (or pay for) a decent dinner.

Ah well. He took a swig of the beer and settled in the chair. You can't have it all!