File from Cloverboard

https://youtu.be/oOaOOU-FBBE

The hicks of the Startrail hate them. Everything about them makes their skin crawl, but particularly their bad manners. To be fair, they mostly greet them with shotgun shells at sight, which is hardly good manners and partially explains why they're constantly toting their submachineguns as a logical defense mechanism. On the other hand they started it by toting their antiquated contracts from centuries ago claiming ownership of the entire planet and everything that comes with it. So, it's kind of a chicken and egg situation, and many would argue they started it by stepping foot in this region and people's property with ill intents.

But then they ask “what does it change if you just let them have it, if you sign up? They signed up on every other planet in the system a decade ago, and nothing ever changed, except they never saw the stinking Jissy ever again.” But to the element of pride associated with never signing up, you must add the heavy feeling of dread that invades your mind as soon as your paw has left on the paper the fatal mark, and they thank you with a toothy, soulless smile. You may refuse, send them packing, but they'll be back, a week, two months, six years later, the same expression on their frozen, wax-like faces, causing a primal instinct deep within you to flinch, subconsciously convinced that it's submachinegun and contract in hand, and frozen shit-eating grin on their faces, that they'll give you over to the Butcher.

No one knows exactly what these people are. To the untrained eye, tall and absolutely hairless as they are, they look like the humans of Elles and if you've never actually seen one, because you've been stuck on a cosmic rock for your entire life, you could think they're just that, and all of them in Bhavabul and Palera are like these creeps, bald, a bitter-sweet, unpleasant smell preceeding them from a mile, antiquated dusty suits that seem to fit the décor of the dead stars in a baffling manner. The occasional traveler whose face is not caked in makeup, who's not toting either a submachinegun or a contract (maybe a submachinegun tho. It is kinda dangerous out there) might debunk that idea. Or you know, you could just look it up online and realize that in Palera and Bhavabul too... they hate the stinking Jissy. Their appearance and demeanor apparently match the “hollow humans” of Jigahong folklore but nothing is more doubtful than that point.

Two things for sure, one : they come from the Galactic Stock Exchange, GSE for short, hence why “Jissy”. They like to remind you of this important fact every time they visit, even after you've greeted them with a resounding “Fucking Jissy!” Two, they're creepy as hell, and that goes far beyond their obviously fake polite behavior and incredibly clingy attitude. As already mentioned, they seem to exist purely for the purpose of claiming ownership of worthless asteroids through the void of space, and to that effect, stick old moldy papers under your nose which carry the signatures of some guys that died four hundred years ago, and would never stop their preemptive strike of legalese waffles that sound like some incomprehensible alien tongue, if you dared refuse to add your signature at the bottom of the list. The various corroborating evidence from Palera, exposing the fact they're extremely rarely seen outside of the GSE's office buildings, or the urban commute from the GSE to the spaceports, or the spaceports, supports this theory.

One of their favorite lines is “Would you like to toss a coin?” Nobody knows what they mean by that. It seems to aim for a threatening tone, but without the vital organs needed to properly convey it, which leads to the theory that they're threatening to shoot, but without anybody knowing whether or not their weapons are actually loaded, including themselves. The problem is that they appear to say it randomly, sometimes in the middle of an awkward attempt at smalltalk or a tirade about climate change, or in between two chuckles that try their hardest to sound friendly. A more outlandish theory explains that they once heard this line from one hick who didn't let them pry his land away from him, and who they really had to kill, and ever since, “their weird brains” are stuck considering this line as a subtle, but universally understood threat of death. Reports claim that throwing this line back at them stuns them for a very brief moment, and has them needing to reboot. It is one of the many “challenges” associated with the sighting of these creatures.